


As We Grow

by butterflyslinky



Series: Gotham Fairytales [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Actually Southern Clark Kent, Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Apologies for the accent, Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M, Violence, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.(The SuperBat Cinderella AU no one asked for.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the Tumblr Justice Memes and their suggestion that Clark Kent wear a ballgown to make an entrance.
> 
> I also thank the Justice Memes for being my sounding board and editors through this process.

The sun beat down on Clark’s back as he worked, his hands aching from the wooden handle of his scythe. He would have preferred something more modern, but there was no money to update the farm and still turn a profit. And if the farm didn’t turn a profit, Luthor would close it down and use the land for something that would. A shopping mall, or something hideous like that.

Even as his hands blistered and his skin burned, Clark knew he couldn’t let that happen. His parents had worked far too hard to get this farm running, and while Clark no longer owned the land, or the crops, or even the house, he would keep it going as long as he drew breath.

The wheat was cut, but Clark couldn’t pause for a moment. He moved to start bundling the grain and heaving it onto the bed of the truck. It was a decent crop, but Clark wouldn’t see a penny from it, just the pittance Luthor gave him. The rest would be going to pay the massive debts left after his parents died.

Clark grunted as he tossed the bundles into the truckbed. He remembered it well, receiving the letter at college telling him his father had been killed in an accident, that his mother had suffered a heart attack from the shock. That the entire farm had failed so badly that year that almost all of it was repossessed.

Then Luthor had come, a snake’s smile on his face. “I will pay the debt,” he said. “I will keep your family’s farm operating…give you a job, let you live there and work until I’ve made back my money.”

Clark…well, he’d never been a financial genius, and he was desperate. He’d agreed, and now…

Now it had been five years and he was still here, working most of the farm himself with outdated equipment, no education, no money, no possibility of ever escaping.

He sighed. The day was growing late and he still had so much crop to bring in. He kept moving, bundle after bundle of wheat going into the bed. It was futile, painful, and he would have given anything not to do it anymore.

*

Bruce poured another drink, staring up at the portraits of his parents. Another day, another break-up, another evening of having to explain to his kids why he couldn’t keep a relationship together.

Well, he knew why. All the money and good-looks and connections he needed, but without the emotional openness to make anything stick. His kids had helped, but it still wasn’t enough.

Besides, it wasn’t like he had been in love. With Vicky, it had been fun, normal, and completely empty. The kids liked her okay, but they weren’t enamored with her, and she was kind to them, but not mother material. Really, it was for the best that she’d ended it.

But that didn’t make it any easier for Bruce. The manor was no longer empty, but it still felt too big, too quiet. Even with all the people who lived there, it was lonely.

A noise behind him and Bruce turned to see his eldest, Dick, standing behind him. “You okay?” Dick asked.

Bruce shrugged. “Been better…I thought I could make this one work.”

Dick nodded. “Would have been nice,” he said. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so broody.”

“Watch it,” Bruce said. He sighed. “I just…she wasn’t the one, you know?”

“Who says there only has to be one?” Dick asked. Bruce was silent and Dick sighed right back. “Bruce, no one’s going to replace Selina. We know that. But you can’t continue to compare everyone to her.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “But…well, all the women I meet are much more enamored with the idea of Bruce Wayne than they are with the actual Bruce Wayne. I need someone who’s in love with us, not the lifestyle.”

Dick snorted. “Good luck with that,” he said. “Let’s face it—where are you going to meet someone who appreciates the simple life and still likes you?”

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know, Dick,” he said. “I just want to meet someone good, and honest, and hard-working…someone who will love my kids, someone who will stick with us no matter what happens.”

“I think you’re setting the bar a bit high,” Dick said.

“But why lower it?” Bruce asked.

*

Clark hauled himself back into the farm house and collapsed in his father’s chair almost immediately. The day had been long and hot and difficult, and he would do it all again tomorrow.

He knew he should go and eat dinner, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to move. And dinner would be poor, anyway. It always was these days, his meagre allowance barely enough to keep him going. But that was the violence of capitalism, wasn’t it, that he should be surrounded by food and still starving.

He’d sat there for several minutes when there was a knock on the door. Clark sighed and got up, knowing who would be visiting at this time.

Sure enough, Lex Luthor was on the doorstep, looking as unpleasant as ever in his suit. “Ah, Mr. Kent,” Luthor said. “Glad I caught you…I heard the harvest was coming in.”

“Yeah,” Clark said. “Good crop this year.” He waited, hoping that Luthor would just take his word for it.

“Better be, Kent,” Luthor said. “Last year was a major disappointment to us both.”

Clark flinched internally. The year before had been harsh, leaving him cold and hungry while Luthor didn’t seem to suffer much at all.

“It’s round back,” Clark said. “Come by tomorrow an’ you can have a look at it all.”

“Have a look?” Luthor repeated. “Tomorrow I want it ready to sell. All of it.”

Clark resisted the urge to groan. “I still got three fields to clear…”

“Well, then you’d better get moving,” Luthor said. “I’ll be back tomorrow, two o’clock sharp, and it’d better be ready…or would you like to spend the winter on the street?”

“No, sir,” Clark said. “But…I dunno, could I get some help? Jus’ someone to…”

“Kent,” Luthor said. “Last year was terrible. There’s no money to hire more help. You get those fields clear, or I’ll find someone who can do it without whining. Understood?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Luthor gave another snake smile. “Don’t worry, Kent,” he said. “Keep your head down, work hard, and I’m sure everything will be sorted in…oh, two or three more years.” With that, Luthor turned and walked back to his stupid expensive car.

Clark sighed and stretched. Even though the sun was already setting, he needed to get back to the fields, even if he had to work through the night.

*

“We need to do something about Bruce,” Dick announced.

His siblings all looked up from their respective computers in confusion. “Do what?” Barbara asked.

“I don’t know,” Dick admitted. “But he’s super mopey about Vicky and we need to snap him out of it. Or do you like having a thunder cloud over the house all the time?”

“Not like there’s ever been a time where there isn’t one,” Jason pointed out.

“Jay.”

“All right, all right,” Jason said. “But what are we supposed to do about it? Bruce is determined to be lonely and moody, even when you throw the most eligible singles in Gotham at him.”

“We haven’t thrown all of them at him,” Tim said. “And all the ones he’s dated so far are…y’know…his level. Maybe we need to expand our horizons a little.”

Damien snorted. “Right, Drake. What are you going to do, invite every unmarried person in the Gotham metropolitan area to the Wayne Gala in the hopes that Bruce likes one of them?”

Dick and Tim exchanged a look. “Why not?” Dick asked. “I mean…he needs to meet someone. Why not get all the someones he could meet into one place he can’t avoid?”

“For one thing, I don’t think our ballroom is big enough,” Jason said. “For another thing, if you have all those people there, he can’t possibly talk to all of them.”

“A lot of them won’t come,” Tim pointed out. “And if Bruce finds just one person he can connect with, that’s a step in the right direction.”

“He’s found people to connect with before,” Cass said from her corner. “Even if he meets someone, who’s to say it won’t end like all the others? Would you keep doing this every year until he settles down?”

There was a glint in Dick’s eyes that the other kids weren’t sure they liked. “If necessary,” he said. “We can’t go on like this. Hell, I will hold a gala every week until he meets someone if that’s what it takes!”

There was a moment of silence before Tim sighed. “Guess I’d better start sending out invites.”

*

“Dick is doing what?” Kara spat.

“Inviting every unmarried person in the Gotham metropolitan area to the Wayne Gala,” Jason repeated with a sigh. “Which means it’s going to be very loud and crowded and even more boring than usual.”

“I dunno,” Kara said. “Watching Bruce try to talk to people about something other than polo and cardigans might be fun.”

Jason snorted. “You’ll be there, right?” he said. “I mean, you’ll be getting an invite anyway, but…”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Kara said. “As your plus-one. I have no interest in trying to woo Bruce Wayne, even if I wasn’t dating one of his kids.”

“Well, at least the evening won’t be completely wasted,” Jason said. “But…I dunno, do you have any single friends Bruce might like? Male or female, he’s not particular. Just someone…good.”

Kara hummed. “I might,” she said. “But…well, it’s complicated.”

“I don’t care,” Jason said. “We’ll untangle complicated later. Just get them to the gala and in Bruce’s path. Otherwise, I’m going to spend my entire life listening to him whining and standing around Dick’s balls.”

Kara giggled. “Phrasing.”

Jason swatted at her. “Shut up.”

*

Kara stopped her car near the house, even though she could see Clark out in the field. She frowned a bit—it was still quite early, but he was already more than halfway across it.

She walked toward him, watching as he stopped to toss bundles of wheat into the truck. He was moving slower than usual, every movement clearly painful. His back was bare and obviously sun-burnt and as she got closer, Kara could see that his already work-calloused hands were bleeding.

“Clark!” she called.

He turned as she jogged up and forced a tired smile onto his face. “Hey, cuz,” he said. “What’re you doin’ out this early?” His eyes were red-ringed and had dark circles under them, and his face was very pale.

“At the moment, saving an idiot from himself,” she said. “Have you been working all night?”

Clark shrugged. “Luthor wants everythin’ ready to go this afternoon,” he said. “Once it’s gone, I’ll have at least a few days off.”

“A few days?” Kara repeated. “Clark, that man won’t even give you a few hours! He does this all the time—the minute one task is done, he comes up with something else to keep you too exhausted to fight him!”

“I’m fine,” Clark mumbled.

“You aren’t,” Kara said. “You haven’t been fine in years. Look at you—you’re not even thirty and you look like you’re ready to die! When did you last sleep?”

“Got about four hours night before last,” Clark said.

“Did you eat yesterday?”

“A little…don’t got a whole lot in the house.”

“Because he pays you close to nothing and takes everything you have!”

“That’s the way of it,” Clark said. “Just a few more years, Kara. Then I’ll be able to get this place back and run it how I like.”

“A few more years,” she said, shaking her head. “If he doesn’t kill you first…Clark, why won’t you let me help you? I’ve got savings, I could pay some of it off…”

“You don’t got much more than I do,” Clark said. “And I got myself into this mess…I ain’t gonna drag you down with me. You deserve better than this life.”

Kara glared for a moment before she picked up the scythe from where Clark had dropped it. “I’m off work today,” she said. “And you won’t get this done by noon alone. I’ll cut, you bundle.”

“Kara…”

“I know just as much about farming as you do,” she said. “Quit arguing.” She raised the scythe and started cutting.

*

Hours later, Kara was sore and tired, but the wheat was all cut and bundled. She glanced at Clark, who was swaying on his feet. “What time is Luthor coming?” she asked.

“Two,” Clark mumbled. “And we’ve got…ten minutes in hand.” He smiled at Kara. “Thanks for your help.”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to live like this,” she said. “Your ma and pa didn’t want this for you.”

Clark sighed. “I know, Kara,” he said. “I know they wanted me to go to college, and make somethin’ of myself…but this is what I got. And it’s not all bad. At least it hasn’t been shut down. I got a roof over my head…work t’do…”

“Clark, it’s killing you!”

“It’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I jist need’t’git through this season.”

Kara frowned, but before she could object, Luthor pulled up, followed by the trucks that would take the grain into the city to be sold.

Luthor stepped out and looked at Clark and Kara. “Hello, Kent…Miss Danvers.” He gave them his false smile and Kara desperately wanted to punch his teeth out. “So kind of you to visit,” he said to Kara. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here.”

Kara shrugged. “Nice to get my hands dirty now and then,” she said. “And Clark needed help.”

Luthor laughed. “Oh, I doubt that,” he said. “Big, strong Clark Kent can do anything, can’t he?” He gave Clark a look that spelled danger. “And is it all in, Kent?”

Clark nodded. “Everything that grew is there. And it’s the best-lookin’ crop I seen in a while. Y’oughtta be able to make a good profit off it.” He was leaning heavily on the scythe and Kara had a feeling he would fall over at any moment.

Luthor stepped over and looked at the bundles. “Not bad, Kent,” he said. “All right, load it up.”

Clark nodded and stepped forward. Kara went with him. “Clark…”

“Save it.” Clark picked up the first bundle and lifted it into the truck. The drivers Luthor had brought watched as Clark and Kara loaded the trucks, not one of them moving to help. Luthor watched Clark work, smirking. Kara glared, but said nothing.

It took several more hours before the grain was all loaded and gone. By that point, the sun was starting to set and Clark looked more pale and unsteady than ever. Kara moved, silently offering her shoulder for him to lean on.

“I’m pleased, Kent,” Luthor said. He had stood and watched, leaning on his car. “Who knows…maybe I’ll increase your allowance for the winter.”

Clark nodded. “Thank you, sir,” he muttered.

Luthor smirked. “Now go clean up. You look terrible.” With that, he got into the car and drove off.

Kara glared after the car before she pulled Clark’s arm over her shoulders. “Come on,” she muttered. Clark was too exhausted to argue and let her half-carry him back to the house.

She pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom and shoved him down onto the counter. “Shower,” she said. “Or did he turn off your hot water again?”

“It’s on,” Clark mumbled.

“Good,” Kara said. “I’ll go make dinner. Come down when you’re decent.” She turned, ignoring her own sweat and dirt, and headed to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and sighed in disgust at finding it almost empty. The freezer was the same. At last, she found a few cans of soup in the cupboard, dusty and not terribly appetizing, but the best she could do.

By the time Clark staggered into the kitchen, Kara had the soup on the table. She sat next to Clark, watching as he ate, slowly, barely awake. Kara barely touched her own bowl, too worried to eat.

At last, Clark looked at her, looking slightly more human. “Why’re you here, anyway?” he asked. “Not that I ain’t grateful, but…y’never told me why y’came.”

Kara sighed. “I got an invitation to the Wayne Gala,” she said. “But I was already going…I have a date. So I wondered if you might like it.”

Clark snorted. “Me? At the Wayne Gala? Yeah, right,” he said.

“Why not?” Kara asked. “You’re young…attractive…single…”

“Broke,” Clark said. “C’mon, Kara…even if I wasn’t up to my eyes in debt, could you imagine me minglin’ with those people?”

“Clark…”

“What’ll’I even say to ‘em? ‘Howdy, Mr. Wayne, real nice shindig y’got here, hope y’don’t mind a poor farmer comin’ in his flannel and overalls.’”

“Clark, we both know you can turn that accent off whenever you like. And I can borrow a tuxedo somewhere for you.”

“I got work t’do.”

“Clark, it’s one night! Luthor won’t bankrupt the farm if you take one night off!”

Clark sighed. “Lemme think on it,” he said. “I’m too tired to make any decisions right now.”

Kara sighed back. “Fine,” she said. “You have two weeks to decide…here.” She pulled an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “There are the details. Just…don’t blow it off, okay? Actually think about it.”

“I will,” Clark promised. He shoved his bowl away and stood up. “I gotta get to bed…y’can stay if y’wanna.”

Kara shook her head. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll be back in a day or two.” She got up and hugged Clark. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “As much as you can.”

Clark hugged her back. “I’ll try,” he said, before he turned and stumbled up the stairs.

*

**GOTHAM GAZETTE, SEPTEMBER 25  
WAYNE GALA BECOMES SINGLES MINGLE—EVERY ELIGIBLE BACHELOR AND BACHELORETTE INVITED TO GOTHAM’S LARGEST SOCIAL EVENT**

“TIM!”

“Uh-oh.” Tim looked to his siblings for help. Unfortunately, Bruce’s roar of fury was enough that Damien, Cass and Steph had already bolted from the room and Dick and Barbara were doing their best to sink into the couch. Only Jason seemed calm, continuing to read his book without a flinch.

Tim braced himself as Bruce stormed into the room, newspaper in hand. “WHAT IS THIS?!” he demanded, throwing the paper at Tim.

Tim glanced at the headline and then back at Bruce. “Um…oops?” he said.

Bruce glared. “What. The. Hell?!” he demanded.

Tim considered his answer for a very careful ten seconds before he blurted out, “It was Dick’s idea!”

Bruce’s glare turned to Dick, who was eyeing the exits quickly. “Dick,” he said, his voice stern.

“I mean…” Dick glanced at Jason, who seemed completely uninterested. “You were really broken up about Vicky and I knew you wouldn’t go looking for anything on your own and you’re going to be at the Gala anyway, so…”

“So we just decided to invite everyone at once and get it over with,” Barbara finished. “I mean…not everyone in the Gotham metropolitan area can be completely repulsive, right?”

“And you haven’t dated all the non-repulsive people,” Dick added. “So…”

Bruce continued to glare. “Has it occurred to you that I might not want to date anyone right now?” he asked.

“Bruce,” Dick said. “You’re moping. You’re brooding. You’re bringing down the mood in the entire house, and we need to do something to bring it up again.”

“Besides,” Tim added. “I’ve already sent out the invites. It’s not like I can just tell all those people so sorry, but Bruce Wayne is such an anti-social loser that he doesn’t want you to come.”

Bruce glared at them for another minute. “And what are you going to do if I don’t meet someone?” he asked.

“You will,” Dick said. “Trust me, Bruce…it’s gonna be great.”

Bruce glowered a bit longer before he turned and stormed out of the room, calling for Alfred.

“He took it better than I expected,” Barbara said.

Tim glanced at Jason. “You seem very calm about this,” he observed.

Jason gave him a look of disgust over his book. “I have a plan,” he said. “And unlike you three, it doesn’t involve throwing Bruce into the lion’s den and hoping he comes out with cubs.”

Barbara made a face. “There are much better ways to put that,” she muttered.

Jason rolled his eyes and returned to his book.

*

Clark was woken, as usual, by someone knocking on his door. He groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. 7:30. He groaned again, grateful he’d gotten almost a full night of sleep, before getting up and pulling on a shirt to go downstairs.

Luthor was at the door, smiling unpleasantly. “Good morning, Kent,” he said. “Enjoying a day off?”

“Tryin’ to,” Clark mumbled. “How can I help you today?”

“Well, first, I believe it’s customary to invite people in for coffee,” Luthor said. “I have some suggestions for the farm and it will take a while.”

Clark blinked. “Um…right,” he said. “Come in.” He let Luthor into the house and went to the kitchen, pulling out the coffee he kept hidden at the back of the cupboard for these occasions. Expensive stuff, but he’d learned very quickly to keep it on hand after the first time Luthor had made an early-morning call that resulted in the heat being turned off for two weeks.

Luthor sat down at the kitchen table and glanced at it. “What’s this?” he asked, picking up the envelope Kara had left.

Clark glanced at it. “Oh…my cousin left it,” he mumbled. “It’s, uh, fer the Wayne Gala…she thought I might like to go.”

Luthor started to laugh. “The Wayne Gala?” he repeated. “You? Please, Kent…I know you’ve had ideas in the past about improving your station, but that’s quite a large step for a farm hand to take.”

“I know,” Clark said. “But she insisted I think ‘bout it.” He turned the coffee maker on and sat down across from Luthor.

“Well, I hope you aren’t thinking too hard,” Luthor said, his eyes suddenly icy. “Because I don’t think you’ll be able to spare the time. I’ve been looking at this little operation of yours, and I think we can do more with the land…and your time.”

“Oh?” Clark asked.

“Yes,” Luthor said. “I think it’s time we start on some live stock. Meat prices are high, and yesterday’s harvest…well, I don’t know if it will pay the bills.”

Clark frowned. “That’s the best harvest I’ve had in years,” he protested. “Maybe you should look into other buyers.”

Luthor frowned. “Which of us is the businessman here?” he asked. “Believe me, Kent, I know you’re a good farmer. It’s why I haven’t turned you out and replaced you with someone better. But I need to see results.”

The coffee pot finished and Clark got up to pour it out. “Alright,” he said. “Livestock. What’d you have in mind?”

“Let’s start with chickens,” Luthor said. “I believe there’s a coop on the property.”

“That thing’s been run-down fer years,” Clark said. “Fixin’ it’s gonna take more time an’ money than jist stickin’ to the crops.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Luthor said. “After all, once the winter crop is planted, you won’t have too much to do…I’m sure a strong, technically-minded man like yourself can rebuild a chicken coop before spring.”

Clark sighed and passed Luthor the coffee. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll get on that as soon as the plantin’s done.”

“Good,” Luthor said. “Now…a few more things. I notice the house isn’t quite up to standards.”

“Um…” Clark glanced around. The house was a bit disorganized, since he’d been working so hard, but it wasn’t a hazard. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered.

“Is the roof still leaking?”

“Only a little.”

“You might want to fix that…and the pipes? How are they?”

“Prolly need to replace ‘em next year.”

“Well, get it done this year…I’ll send them out.”

“I ain’t a plumber.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out…also, that window. Awfully drafty, isn’t it?”

“Always has been. Ma liked the breeze.”

“But it adds to the heating bill.”

“I’ll get on that.”

“Good…well, I think that’s everything I need, other than clearing out the general clutter. I’ll be back next week to see how you’re getting on.” Luthor finished the coffee and left. Clark stared after him for a moment before getting up. He glanced at the envelope still on the table and snorted.

The Wayne Gala. As if he could ever find time for that.

*

Kara showed up a few days later. Clark was plowing the fields, keeping himself moving almost entirely by force of will.

“See he hasn’t let up,” Kara observed.

Clark turned to her with a glare. “You gonna help or just make smart remarks?” he asked. “Cause I got a whole list of buildin’ repairs that need to be done.”

Kara shook her head. “Is he going on about the pipes again?” she muttered. “They wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t turn the heat off whenever he gets mad at you!”

“The pipes, the roof, the windows…plus he wants to start chickens in the spring.” Clark sighed. “Which means rebuildin’ Ma’s coop and findin’ time to look after ‘em…”

“And you’re going to put up with it.”

Clark shrugged. “Don’t got much of a choice,” he said. “I mean…”

“I know,” Kara said. “Have you thought about the Gala?”

“I have,” Clark said. “And I don’t think it’s gonna happen. Not unless you got a bunch of singin’ mice to do all the work fer me.”

“Come on, Clark. One night…well, one day, you won’t want to be exhausted when you get there. Just twenty-four hours to be someone other than a farmhand.”

Clark shook his head. “Luthor won’t like it.”

“So?” Kara asked. “Christ, Clark, is he your father? You can’t let him control your life like this!”

“He owns my life, Kara.”

“He owns your debt and your farm and your labor, but he doesn’t own _you_. Not unless you let him.”

Clark considered her for a moment. “Alright,” he said. “If I can git caught up on the plantin’ and put the house in good enough shape...”

“Planting and get it clean, not fixed.”

“Fine. And if I can find a suit and car…”

“I’ll arrange it.”

“And if we can keep Luthor from findin’ out…”

“Why? You’re a free adult, what do you care if he knows?”

“He could fire me!”

“For taking a day off?” Kara sighed at the look on Clark’s face. “Fine, fine…I think I can make you unrecognizable without too much effort. But you’ll have to do as I say.”

“Alright,” Clark said. “If all that happens, I’ll go. But only ‘cause I know you’ll never shut up about it otherwise.”

“Fair enough,” Kara said. “So…want me to plant or clean?”

*

“I need a favor,” Kara said.

“Oh?” Jason asked.

“It’s a very big favor,” Kara said. “But I think it’ll solve both our problems at once.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

“First, I need one of your suits,” she said. “Whichever you’re not wearing to the gala that’s still formal enough for it. And I’ll probably have to alter it, so you won’t get it back.”

“I’ve got one I never wear,” Jason said.

“Next, I need to hire a car to arrive at the Gala at least half an hour late.”

“Easy enough. Anything else?”

“I need your siblings to keep Lex Luthor distracted all night.”

Jason blinked, then grinned. “I think they’ll enjoy that,” he said. “Do you want him mildly annoyed or extremely annoyed?”

Kara thought for a moment. “I want him as irritated as possible,” she said. “I want him to have the worst, least enjoyable evening of his life.”

“Our pleasure,” Jason said. “And what do we get?”

“Trust me,” Kara said. “If this works, Bruce will be happy…and so will Clark.”

Jason watched her for a moment before he grinned. “I’d better get that suit.”

*

Jason found Bruce on the balcony, looking extremely grumpy, even for him.

“You really are mad about the Gala, aren’t you?” Jason asked.

Bruce sighed. “Not mad, exactly,” he said. “I understand why they did it…I know this string of relationships hasn’t been easy or fair on any of us. But…I thought it was maybe time to just give it up for a bit.”

“You’ve tried that,” Jason said. “After Selina…you didn’t date for three years and we were all miserable.”

“You’re miserable when I’m single, you’re miserable when I date…” Bruce shook his head. “I’m sorry I can’t do any of it right.”

“You can,” Jason said. “With Selina…we were all happy. Because you were happy. You just need to find someone who makes you happy.”

“Like her?”

“There’s no one like her,” Jason said. “Maybe you need to look for someone as not like her as possible.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “But…the Gala…”

“You have to go,” Jason said. “And don’t just dismiss it and brood in a corner all night. They did mean well. And who knows? You might meet someone.” Jason looked at Bruce seriously. “At least try? For us?”

Bruce considered for a moment. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try.”

*

If Clark was honest with himself, having the Wayne Gala to look forward to made the next two weeks pass very quickly and more productively. Granted, he had Kara helping him almost every afternoon, but it was still amazing what they accomplished.

The house was cleaned and half of it was fixed within a week. Luthor didn’t even have anything bad to say when he stopped by. “I have to say, I’m impressed, Kent,” he said. “You must be very determined to please me.”

Clark gave him a thin smile. “Well, I gotta live here,” he said.

“True,” Luthor said. “And how’s the planting going?”

“On schedule,” Clark said. “We’re makin’ good progress.”

“Glad to hear it,” Luthor said. “You’d better hope it’s better than the last crop.”

But not even Luthor could slow Clark down, especially with Kara constantly on his back. A few days before the Gala, she appeared at the house with a garment bag in hand.

“I found you a suit,” she said. “And I’ve done my best to alter it, so go make sure it fits.”

Clark took the bag. “I’ll need to clean up a bit first,” he said.

“I can wait,” Kara said.

Fifteen minutes later, Clark reappeared, tugging self-consciously at his collar. “You sure ‘bout this?” he asked.

“Hold still.” Kara went over and started adjusting the clothes. “I think it looks great,” she said when she was finished. “Not too tight?”

“No,” Clark said. “It feels…good, actually.” He half-smiled.

“Stand up straight,” Kara said, gently pushing back on Clark’s shoulders. “That’ll help the fit.” She stepped back and considered him. “I’ve got ideas for your hair and makeup. Hang that up and I’ll be back at five on Friday.”

“But the Gala doesn’t start until eight,” Clark said. “Is it really gonna take you three hours?”

“No,” Kara said. “But I have to drive out here, get you ready, and be back before it starts, whereas you can be fashionably late.”

Clark sighed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

“And no working on Friday!” Kara added. “You spend the day resting up, because it’s going to be a long night!”


	2. Chapter 2

“Bruce, what the hell are you wearing?”

Bruce glanced over at Steph, who was leaning in the doorway. “A suit?” he said.

“Why is it gold?” she asked.

“Because Dick told me black is boring,” Bruce said. “Besides, if I must be the center of attention, I might as well own it.” He turned to her. “Is it too much?”

Steph sighed. “No,” she admitted. “It does look nice…on you.” She went over and straightened Bruce’s tie. “You ready for this?” she asked.

“No,” Bruce said. “But I don’t have much choice, do I?” He looked Steph over. She wore a very long dark-purple dress with a hairdo that cost most of her allowance. She was lovely, like all his children. Bruce offered his arm. “Are you going to be my official escort tonight?”

Steph grinned and took his arm. “Babs got to enter with you last year,” she said. “It’s my turn. Besides, Jason put her on Unpleasant Guest Duty for the first hour.”

“She’ll have a lot of them this year,” Bruce muttered. He took a breath and guided Steph down the stairs. “Well…into battle.”

Steph squeezed his arm. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “If you need an out, Damien’s agreed to make himself ill.”

“Please no,” Bruce said. “Alfred’s staff will have enough to clean up without Damien making himself vomit.”

She giggled as they reached the doors to the ballroom. “Well…here we go.”

Bruce grimaced and turned to walk through the doors.

*

It was so strange, to sleep late, to spend the day sitting in the tiny parlor reading in the sunlight. It felt odd to go upstairs at four o’clock and have an actual bath, long and luxurious and calming. Clark felt like a new man as he got into the suit Kara had brought him, midnight blue and well-tailored. His hands trembled a little as he tied the tie on, feeling so unlike himself.

Kara arrived at five as promised, still in her street clothes. She looked Clark over critically. “Not bad,” she said. “You’re way less tense than I’ve seen you in years.”

“Amazin’ what jist a bit of rest can do,” Clark agreed.

“First things first,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to control that accent. Flatten out to newscaster standard. It’ll make it harder for Luthor to notice you.”

Clark nodded. “I kin…can…do that.” The syllables felt odd in his mouth as he rounded them out, his voice dropping almost half an octave as he did so.

“Now sit,” Kara said.

Clark took a seat at the kitchen table. Kara spun him around with hardly any effort and started attacking his hair with a comb, brushing it down and putting in a part so severe Clark was afraid his scalp would bleed. She went at it for several minutes before she pulled a curl down into his eyes. “Good,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

A faint mist of hairspray hit him. Clark tried not to choke on it.

Next came the makeup. Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Kara shushed him. “It’s just a little bit,” she said. “Soften you up a bit.”

Concealer over the weather-beaten skin, hiding the uneven tan. Eyeliner and shadow, washing out the tiredness of his eyes and bringing out the blue of them. The faintest hint of lipgloss, giving him a softer appearance, healing the roughness of his mouth. A brush of powder and it was guaranteed to last throughout the evening.

Kara stepped back and admired her work for a minute before frowning. “Almost enough,” she said. “But…I don’t know, you still look like…you. Just better.”

“I feel better,” Clark said. “But…I do have an idea.” He stood up and went back to the parlor, where he’d left his reading glasses. He slid them on and turned to Kara. “Better?”

She smiled. “Perfect,” she said. “Luthor’s never seen you like this…and I’ve arranged for him to be busy all night. You should be able to get in and enjoy it without trouble.”

“Hope so,” Clark said. “I would hate for all of your hard work to be wasted.”

“Someone will be picking you up in half an hour,” Kara said. “I have to go now…make myself pretty and get there.”

“You never said who you were going with,” Clark said, feeling bold.

Kara turned. “Didn’t I?” she said. “I’ve been seeing Jason Todd-Wayne for the last three months…thought you knew.” She giggled and waved before dashing out.

Clark stared after her, his mind racing with questions.

*

Lex stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the press of people. Just like the Waynes, to invite all the hoi polloi to their little gathering. Lex remembered when the Wayne Gala was the social event of the year, only the best and richest of Gotham allowed, but now…

One of Wayne’s grubby brats was walking over to him. Lex racked his mind for her name. Barbara Gordon-Wayne? That sounded right. The daughter of a police commissioner who was killed in a shoot-out. No one special, but apparently Wayne felt sorry for her.

“Mr. Luthor,” she said. “How lovely to see you.” Her smile was false.

“And you, Miss Gordon,” he said, purposefully omitting the second name. She didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t a high-class girl, she was a cop’s orphan.

Her eyes were hard, but she let it slide. “I hope you aren’t bored,” she said. “You’ve been in a corner for ten minutes.”

“I didn’t think it necessary to mingle,” Luthor said. “Since Mr. Wayne has turned this into a speed-dating event for himself.”

“Oh, it’s not just for him,” she said. “I’m sure that a man like yourself could find a date as well…there are several ladies who are a bit too old for Bruce who might be interested.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Oh, no doubt,” he said. “But I’m afraid my business takes up far too much of my time for a relationship…or any strays I happen to meet.”

“Hmm, yes.” Gordon gave another false smile. “I hear you’ve recently expressed an interest in agriculture.”

“It’s a lucrative field,” Lex said. How would she know? “I find it…very stimulating.”

“I’m sure you do. Though you don’t seem to have gotten much of a tan from it.”

“The business side, Miss Gordon. I merely look after the profits.” He gave her a false smile in return for all of hers. “And what about you? Are you looking for a husband tonight?”

“Oh, no,” Gordon said. “My studies are more important. And it’s not like I need to find a husband.”

“No, I suspect that your brothers will be happy to look after you well after you become an old maid.”

“A rather old-fashioned view, isn’t it? Not that I’d expect anything else from you.”

“Oh, no doubt. I’m sure your books and computers will comfort you when the shine has quite come off the bloom.”

“And I have no doubt your money will comfort you as well.” Gordon gave another smile. “Though the shine is quite gone from everything but your head. Do excuse me…I believe that young gentleman is trying to get my attention.” She turned and walked away. Lex glared after her for a moment.

She was quickly replaced by Tim Drake-Wayne, the brat. Barely seventeen years old, but for some reason Wayne had put him in charge of the Wayne Foundation. Lex had encountered the boy several times, and found him altogether too intelligent and grating to work with.

Unfortunately, his intelligence kept him in the position and often put him ahead of Lex’s company.

“Mr. Luthor,” Drake said with a smile that was barely more sincere than his sister’s. “I had hoped to catch you tonight.”

“How can I help you, Mr. Drake?” Lex asked, trying to inject as much disdain into his voice as possible.

“Well,” Drake said in the voice that indicated he was about to start a board meeting presentation. “The Wayne Foundation has seen a major decrease in donations this year, which is putting us behind on our goals for Gotham. You see…” Drake launched into his spiel, droning on about orphans and puppies and whatever other do-gooder things the Foundation was attempting this year.

Lex quickly tuned him out, his mind drifting back to the Kent farm. So many things he could do with the land if only he could legally throw Clark Kent off of it. So many buildings. A whole development, a new campus for LexCorps.

Then again, the farm did make money and it was always a joy to watch Kent work. Lex’s mind drifted to the sun-gold skin and rippling muscles. How delightful it had been, taking such an intelligent, strong young man and breaking him. Holding power over him for so many years, watching the boy dance. And it was much better to keep him working. The power alone was worth it.

“Mr. Luthor?”

Luthor jerked back to attention. “My apologies, Mr. Drake…I have a lot of business on my mind. What were you asking?”

“I was wondering if you’d be participating in the Foundation’s charity golf tournament?” Drake’s face was hopeful. “After all, it would do a lot for your public image.”

Lex gave Drake a false smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Drake, but I find that I can no longer do much golfing.”

“Oh?” Drake said. “Is your arthritis acting up?”

Lex grit his teeth to prevent himself from rolling his eyes. “No,” he said. “I’m merely too busy running my company…after all, we don’t all have Daddy helping us.”

Drake gave a tiny smile full of venom. “I assure you that Mr. Wayne is far too busy running Wayne Enterprises to trouble himself with the Foundation too much,” he said. “After all, he knows how to delegate…and what actually needs his attention.”

“When you have more than a small foundation to run, you’ll understand,” Lex said.

“I’ll bow to your far, far longer experience,” Tim said. “Though non-profit work is much different from just taking as much as possible.”

“Is that not the world we live in?” Lex asked. “Or are you still too young and naïve to know better?”

“I think I know more than you think,” Drake said. “But I was raised to care about more than money.” Drake glanced over Lex’s shoulder at something and smiled. “But if you’re not interested in helping the Foundation, I believe Bruce had a proposal he wanted me to present to you…”

Lex sighed and closed his eyes. This was going to be a very long evening.

*

The car was far nicer than Clark had expected. Then again, it was for the Wayne Gala and Kara had clearly borrowed money from her boyfriend for this venture. The driver didn’t seem at all put-off by the less-than-stellar locale, nor did he give Clark any sort of grief, merely greeted him warmly and waited until he was settled in the back before driving into Gotham.

It had been years since Clark had been in the city proper—on the rare occasion he ventured out of the house, it was only to the edge of town. The city was huge and bright and Clark could only stare eagerly out the windows at everything. He could barely take it all in. It was a new world, a new day, and he was a new man.

Oh, and when they reached Wayne Manor! Even from the outside, it was amazing, ancient and stately, giant and imposing and so, so beautiful. Clark felt distinctly out of his depths as he stepped out of the car and he almost considered turning back. What was he, the impoverished farmer, to be stepping into such a fine place, to mingle with the elite of such a gorgeous city?

But Kara would be looking for him and she would be very put out if all her hard work went to waste. Clark took a deep breath and walked up the steps alone. He glanced at the great clock overhead. Almost nine, he was running late.

There was a girl on the porch, dressed in a dress so dark that Clark almost didn’t see her. She looked at him, unsmiling but not unkind. “Invitation?” she asked.

Clark handed it to her, almost wondering if she would turn him away. But she looked at it, and at him, and her face twitched in what might have been amusement. “Welcome to our home, Mr. Kent. I’m Cassandra Caine-Wayne.”

He nodded respectfully. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, his unaccented voice feeling wrong and foreign in his mouth.

“Follow me.” She took his arm and guided him inside, down a long hallway to a pair of double doors. “Do enjoy yourself,” she said, and vanished.

Clark blinked after her, wishing she had remained with him. She was a stranger, but it would feel less awkward entering with Bruce Wayne’s daughter than alone.

Still. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Clark straightened his tie, adjusted his glasses, took a deep breath and opened the doors.

*

If this gala got any more boring, Bruce was going to scream just to liven it up. He had spoken to a long string of single Gothamites, both men and women, and none of them had been interesting, charming, or in any way worth his time.

He leveled a glare at Dick has he passed, though Dick was too busy flirting with a pretty red-head to notice. Bruce looked for his other children. Barbara was talking to a very handsome young man who very quickly moved his hand when Bruce glared at him; Steph was in a corner with several other teenage girls, all giggling; Damien was sulking in a corner with Alfred; and Cass had muttered something about needing air before vanishing.

Jason appeared beside Bruce, a lovely young blonde in a light-blue dress on his arm. “Bruce,” he said. “I want you to meet Kara Danvers…my girlfriend.”

Bruce blinked. He knew Jason had been seeing someone, but they’d never met before. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Danvers,” he said. “I’m very glad Jason’s letting me meet you at last.”

Kara smiled. “The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Wayne,” she said. “And please call me Kara.”

“How long have you been together?” Bruce asked.

“About three months,” Jason said. “Sorry I haven’t brought her home sooner, but…”

“I’ve been very busy,” Kara said.

“Kara’s a reporter for CatCo,” Jason added.

“Ah.” Bruce nodded. “And how is Ms. Grant?”

“She’s doing well,” Kara said. “Business has been booming recently.” She sipped at her champagne and Bruce had the feeling he was being judged. “And how are things at Wayne Enterprises? I saw that you were developing some new projects.”

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief that there was someone here who wouldn’t be hounding him about his love life and launched into a detailed description of what his company would be doing next. Kara was attentive, asking all the right questions—of course she did, she was a reporter, but Bruce didn’t mind. He glanced at Jason a few times, who was watching Kara with a very odd expression. It was almost like…no, it was pure adoration, something Bruce hadn’t seen from Jason in a long time.

Seeing Jason so smitten almost made the entire evening worth it.

Bruce had been talking for several minutes when he heard the doors open. He glanced up for the late arrival and his breath stopped.

Standing at the top of the steps, looking very lost, was the most beautiful man Bruce had ever seen. Tall, broad, sun-tanned and dark-haired, wearing a midnight blue suit and nerdy glasses that couldn’t hide the most beautiful blue eyes in the world. Kara glanced up as well and smiled.

“Do you know him?” Bruce breathed as the man started to walk down the stairs.

“My cousin,” Kara explained. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She took Bruce’s arm and dragged him across the floor to the man, who had just stopped. “Mr. Wayne, this is my cousin Clark. Clark, Mr. Bruce Wayne.”

Clark blinked and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wayne,” he said. “Thank you for having me.”

Bruce blinked back stupidly and took the offered hand, feeling the callouses of Clark’s hand and the strength of his grip. “Please,” he said. “Call me Bruce.”

*

Clark would never, ever forget the first sight of Bruce Wayne. So tall, and dark, wearing a gold suit as though he did so every day. He walked over as though in a dream, Kara wearing her shark’s grin as she introduced them, carefully omitting Clark’s last name, for which he would be eternally grateful.

Clark felt like an idiot as he spoke the words his ma had taught him, felt ridiculous offering his hand to Bruce Wayne, felt terrible as he felt the softness of the skin there. Bruce’s hands were strong, but soft, clean and well-manicured. Gentlemen’s hands, so unlike Clark’s.

But then Bruce asked for Clark to use his first name and Clark thought his heart might burst out of his chest from how hard it was beating.

Clark barely noticed Kara carefully pulling her date away, hardly looked at any of the other people in the room as he stared into Bruce’s eyes, feeling a pull he’d never felt before. Bruce was staring at him just as intently, grey eyes boring into blue for what could have been hours.

“So…” Bruce said. “What line of work are you in?”

Clark flinched inwardly. He didn’t want to talk about it right now, but Bruce couldn’t have known what that question meant to him. “Um…agriculture,” Clark said. It sounded better than farming. “I have a farm.”

“Oh!” Bruce looked genuinely interested. “Large operation?”

“No, not really. Just a few wheat fields. But it sees me through.” Or would, if he could keep any of it.

“I’ve heard that wheat prices are high this year. I hope the weather’s been good.”

“Fairly good,” Clark said. “Bit wet, but I managed to compensate. The winter’s looking mild, so that will make up for it.”

“Hopefully,” Bruce said. “Most of Gotham relies on local farming.”

“Yes, I remember there was that campaign a while back,” Clark said. “You were involved, weren’t you?”

“A bit, yes,” Bruce said. “It was one of the ways I could think of to boost the local economy.”

“Hmm…” Clark frowned a bit. “Unfortunately, as I recall, most of those on the lower end of the economic scale were still stuck with whatever was cheap, regardless of where it’s from.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “It was perhaps a bit ill-advised. But I hope it was a step in the right direction.”

“The trouble is that what seems like one step in the right direction often becomes several steps in the wrong direction.”

Bruce laughed bitterly. “This is true,” he said. “But as my children continuously remind me, there is no such thing as ethical consumerism under capitalism, and those of us with privilege should use it as best we can to try and help others.”

“The only trouble is, you don’t always know how to do that,” Clark agreed. “And unless there is true systematic change at every level, it will continue to be unethical.”

“True systematic change is impossible to implement at every level,” Bruce said. “Not unless those at the very top of the power structure are willing to give up some of their wealth and power, and you’ll find very few who are.”

“Oh, I know,” Clark said, his mind on Luthor. “A man with even a small amount of power will use all of it, even if it gives him no real benefit.”

“Alas that that be the folly of mankind,” Bruce said. “That all must suffer because we are wired to greed.”

“I don’t believe we are,” Clark said. “I believe a few people were, and they built a world that relies upon it.”

“You’re an optimist, Clark.”

“Perhaps. But I prefer to believe that everyone at least has the capacity to be good.”

“Is what we prefer to believe really true?”

“What do you choose to believe?”

Bruce studied him for a moment before he smiled. “I choose to believe that you’ll dance with me.”

Clark felt himself blushing. “Won’t…won’t people look at us?” he asked, barely keeping his voice steady and unaccented.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Do you care if they do?”

“No, but…”

“I’ve been openly bisexual for years…or are you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I…” Clark took a breath and then placed his hand in Bruce’s. “I’d love to dance with you.”

Bruce smiled and Clark let himself be led out onto the floor, ignoring the stares and whispers as Bruce pulled him into his arms. The music started and they were off and Clark forgot to think at all.

*

Dick waited until Bruce took the floor and was too distracted to notice before he darted over to Jason. “Who is that?” Dick asked.

“Kara’s cousin,” Jason murmured.

Dick grinned at Kara. “Good work,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who’s more Bruce’s type.”

“Oh, I know,” Kara said. “And from what Jason tells me, they’re both huge nerds so they should get along just fine.” She smiled back at Dick. “Good on you for arranging all this.”

Dick shrugged. “He’s been miserable,” he said. “This seemed best.”

“I don’t disagree,” Jason said. “And I took it one step further.”

Kara swatted him. “I took it one step further,” she said. “Now come on. Let’s not make them be the center of attention too long…Luthor’s bound to get sick of Tim’s sales pitch eventually.”

Jason nodded and led Kara to the dance floor. Dick watched them a moment before Babs materialized by his side.

“I see Bruce found someone not repulsive,” she commented.

“Jay and Kara set it up,” Dick said. “Shall we dance? You know we’re always the best out there.”

Babs grinned and took Dick’s hand. “And it is tradition for the eldest Wayne children to be out for the first dance,” she said.

“Exactly.” Dick dropped his voice as he led Babs onto the floor. “Plus we might be able to get close enough to hear their conversation.”

“Dick! That’s just rude!”

“Hey! Just because he’s Kara’s cousin doesn’t mean he’s automatically good enough for Bruce!”

Babs glanced at the pair over Dick’s shoulder. “He’s two hundred pounds of all-American beefcake. Unless he’s a raging misogynist or racist, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Still.” Dick spun Babs around until they were close enough to overhear what Bruce was saying.

“…and I’m sorry, Clark, but getting everyone in the world to agree to solutions to problems they’ve created is a pipe dream.”

“Are pipe dreams not worth chasing? Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.”

“Very true, but Rome was built from the ground up. It’s harder to overhaul a complete economic structure that is so ingrained in our values.”

“Our values are changing. Overhaul is simply the next natural step, and the only ones who don’t want it are too entrenched to be of any real help to begin with.”

Dick quickly steered Babs away. “They’re fine,” he declared.

Babs grinned. “At that rate, they’ll be going all night and Bruce will be thrilled about it. He hasn’t gotten to have a good argument since…” Her face fell a little.

Dick nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “We just don’t challenge him anymore.”

Babs sighed. “I hope that this works out,” she said. “I really do. I want him to be happy. But…well, Selina was practically our mom.”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “We’re always going to miss her.” He glanced over at Bruce and Clark, who were still dancing and debating, the rhythm of their dance matching the rhythm of their words perfectly. “But I think…well, it’s time, Babs.”

She smiled. “It is,” she said. She glanced at Bruce and Clark as well and her smile grew. “It really is.”

*

They danced for almost an hour, too absorbed in the rhythm to notice the time passing.

But at last their debate wound down and Clark glanced around. “Shouldn’t you be mingling?”

Bruce shrugged. “They all expect me to be standoffish and I trust my kids to handle the diplomacy. Besides, mingling would mean either leaving your side or forcing you to mingle as well.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Clark said. “But I suppose your children can deal with it…you have five?” Clark tried to remember the last time he’d read a tabloid.

“Seven,” Bruce corrected. “But Cass and Damien are young enough to stay out of the papers.” He smiled. “Suppose I should introduce you to them, at least.”

“I did meet Cassandra outside,” Clark said.

“Yeah, she gets claustrophobic if she’s around too many people.” Bruce took Clark’s arm and gently led him off the dance floor. “Still skittish from her past.”

“Adopted?”

“All of them except Damien.” They had moved to the edge of the floor towards a corner. “And that was a very short-lived marriage.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Bruce sighed. “Talia…well, she was okay with Dick” he said. “I had him before we got married, it was a package deal. And she was okay with Barbara, or said she was. But then I brought Jason home and…well, it was too much for her. She wasn’t really ready to be a mother to one kid, let alone four. So she left…signed Damien over to me and was gone. Never saw her again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bruce shrugged. “We managed,” he said. “And when the other three came, it helped. I barely think of her anymore.”

“Do the kids?”

“Dick was the only one who knew her long enough for her to have any real impact. Damien doesn’t remember her at all.”

“Still…raising seven children alone can’t have been easy.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Bruce said. “Alfred, my butler, helped a lot. And there have been a few others over the years.”

Before Clark could ask more, a young man and woman came over. “Bruce!” the man said. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “Clark, my pride and joys, Richard Grayson-Wayne and Barbara Gordon-Wayne. Dick, Babs, this is Clark…” Bruce trailed off, realizing he hadn’t gotten Clark’s last name.

Clark only smiled and offered his hand. “Pleasure,” he said.

Dick grinned and shook his hand. “I’m glad Bruce found someone to talk to,” he said. “He’s been complaining for weeks that this would be boring.”

Clark laughed. “I admit, I had similar feelings. Kara had to nag me for days to get me to come.”

“Well, lucky for us you did,” Barbara said. “I hope Bruce isn’t boring you.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Wayne, we’ve been having a wonderful conversation.”

Barbara smiled. “I’m glad,” she said. “We won’t keep you, then.” She tugged at Dick’s arm and they vanished back into the crowd.

Bruce watched them go, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he said. “They’re a bit…well, this whole thing was Dick’s idea. They’re very overeager for me to find a match.”

“I’m sorry I’m all you’ve found,” Clark said.

“Why are you sorry?” Bruce asked.

Clark was quiet for a minute. “It’s complicated,” he said. “But…short answer, I’m not really looking for anything.”

“Tell the truth, neither am I, not really,” Bruce said. “Though they’re probably already planning our wedding.”

“Can I ask why they’re so…enthusiastic?” Clark asked.

Bruce was quiet for a long time. “Walk with me,” he finally said.

Clark’s brow furrowed, but he followed Bruce out of the ballroom, down a hallway and through a pair of French doors into the garden. Bruce led him to a bench and sat, gesturing for Clark to join him.

They sat there for several minutes, the silence heavy and sorrowful before Bruce spoke. “About seven years ago, there was someone in my life. Her name was Selina Kyle….she was…well, she was trouble, but I liked that. She challenged me…made me laugh a lot. She loved my kids, and they all loved her, and we were headed for something permanent…but we only got two years.”

Clark laid his hand over Bruce’s. “What happened to her?”

Bruce sighed. “She died,” he said. “Because I was too blind to see that she needed help, and she was too stubborn to ask for it.” At Clark’s questioning look, he continued, “The official cause of death was pneumonia brought on by exposure.”

“And unofficially?”

“She went out one night,” Bruce said. “Well…she went out a lot of nights. Never said where she was going…but I trusted her. I waited for her…by morning, I was worried, by the next night, I was frantic. They found her in an alley the night after that…she’d overdosed on heroin. Apparently she’d been using it for years, and I never knew. She was good at lying…good at hiding. I should have noticed…should have found her sooner. I could have saved her.”

“Oh, Bruce…” Clark breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce shook his head. “It took all of my influence to keep it out of the papers,” he said. “The kids didn’t need that…it was…I didn’t want to date again after that. But…the kids wanted me to be happy, so I tried, but…nothing seems to stick.”

Clark was quiet, but he moved closer to Bruce, practically leaning on him. They sat there for a long time, neither having any idea what to say.

“What about you?” Bruce finally asked. “Anyone special? Ever?”

“No,” Clark said. “Never dated when I was younger…haven’t had the time. Since my parents died, I’ve been too busy running the farm. It keeps afloat, but…well, it’s mostly just me.”

“I see,” Bruce said. “No outside help?”

“Not unless it’s a very busy year,” Clark said. “I can keep the whole thing going by myself…though it’s exhausting.”

“Ever thought of selling?”

“No,” Clark said. “I don’t have any other skills and…well, it was their life’s work. It would feel wrong to abandon it like that.”

“I understand that,” Bruce said. “I mean…I’ve thought about selling the house, but…”

“It’s part of them,” Clark finished. “Something they loved…which means you love it too, even when you hate it.”

“And you can’t ever bring yourself to completely change it,” Bruce added. “Even when you make updates, part of them has to stay, because it reminds you of when you were happy.”

“And losing any part of it feels like whittling away at their memory.”

“A memory you can’t lose.”

They were very close together now, their hands clasped together. Slowly, Bruce raised a hand. “Do you always wear glasses?” he asked.

“No,” Clark said. “They’re normally just for reading.”

“So why do you have them on now?”

“I’m reading you.”

Bruce half-smiled. “And what have you learned?”

“That I like you,” Clark said. “That we’re on the same wavelength.”

“Can I?” Bruce said, his hand brushing against the glasses.

Clark hesitated, then nodded. Slowly, Bruce pulled the glasses away to look deep into the blue eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment before Bruce leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Clark’s eyes widened for a moment before he gave in, closing his eyes and kissing back, his arm sliding around Bruce’s waist. It felt…amazing. Like the entire world had suddenly burst into color all at once, like he was flying, like none of his problems existed anymore.

It was forever, or maybe only a second, before Bruce pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know neither of us is looking, but…”

Clark blinked stupidly for a minute before his brain caught up and he stood abruptly. “I…Bruce, I…”

Bruce watched him, his eyes steady. “I know,” he said. “Bad timing.”

“I can’t…” Clark wanted to say everything, wanted to explain, but he couldn’t. “I’m sorry…I wish it was different, but…”

“I know.”

“I…”

Before Clark could say any more, Kara came dashing out the doors. “Clark!” she said.

He turned. “What is it?”

“Tim’s run out of things to say and Luthor’s coming this way. You need to get out of here!”

Clark turned pale. He glanced at Bruce once more. “I’m sorry,” he said, and turned. Kara grabbed his hand and pulled him across the garden, both breaking into a run and sprinting to the fence.

Bruce stared after them in confusion for a minute before he looked down. In his hand, he was still holding Clark’s glasses.

*

Clark didn’t know how fast Kara drove, only that he was still dizzy.

Bruce Wayne had kissed him.

Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, the most famous and beloved man in Gotham, had sat with Clark, and spoken to him as though they were equals, had told Clark about his past and feelings…

And had kissed him.

Clark pressed his fingertips to his lips in wonder. It had felt so good…so right…

But then Kara pulled up in front of the farm and Clark was jerked back to reality. Bruce Wayne was not in his future. His future was more farm work, more drudgery, more days spent outside working until he dropped.

Kara turned to him as she turned off the car. “So?” she asked.

“So what?” Clark asked back.

“How’d you get on with Bruce?” There was a smirk playing around her mouth. “You looked awfully intimate in there.”

“Fine,” Clark said. “We…got along fine.”

Kara raised her eyebrows. “That all?”

Clark sighed. “He kissed me,” he said, wonder in his voice. “And…I told him…I ain’t lookin’ fer anythin’, but…”

“Clark,” Kara said. “You can’t just shut yourself away here forever. Bruce Wayne is a good man...he can help you.”

“I don’t need his charity,” Clark snapped. “I’m sorry, Kara, but…I cain’t. Luthor would…”

“Fuck’s sake, Clark!” she snapped back. “Are you living your life or his? Debt or no debt, you need to get out of this place! And Bruce is a way out!”

“I’m not jist gonna date a guy to git outta this!” Clark said. “That ain’t fair t’him! ‘Sides, not like I’m gonna see him again…he don’t even know my last name, and yer certainly not gonna tell him where I live!”

Kara glared for a moment. “Fine,” she said. “I promise, I will not tell Bruce Wayne who or where you are, and I will continue to let you live a sad, lonely, miserable life out here until you drop dead at forty from overworking. Happy?”

Clark glared back. “Good night, Kara,” he said, and got out of the car.

*

Bruce hurried back to the ballroom, the glasses safe in his coat pocket. Jason was lurking in a corner, much less social since his date was gone. Bruce cornered him at once. “Who is he?” he growled.

Jason didn’t even blink. “Clark Kent,” he said. “Like we said, he’s Kara’s cousin—a farmer from just outside the Smallville district.”

“What’s Luthor got to do with him?”

“I don’t know all the details,” Jason said. “But the gist of it is that Clark owes Luthor a lot of money and almost everything he makes off the farm goes to pay off the debt.”

“And knowing Luthor, he exploits that for all it’s worth?”

“From what Kara says, yes. And don’t bother asking if you can just pay it off,” Jason added. “Kara’s offered and he always refuses. She says he’s proud and stubborn and would rather work himself to death than accept help from family…let alone a practical stranger.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you could get his address?”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think he’s going to want a date.”

“Maybe not,” Bruce said. “But…” He pulled the glasses out of his pocket. “I should return these at least.”

Jason smiled. “Only polite,” he said. “I’ll get you the address.”


	3. Chapter 3

Clark wasn’t surprised when Luthor appeared a few days after the Gala as Clark was working on the plans for the chicken coop.

“Mr. Kent,” Luthor said as he walked into the kitchen. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“Where else would I be?” Clark asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Luthor said. “But I was speaking to some people at the Wayne Gala…I don’t suppose you managed to attend?”

Clark gave him a bland smile. “I’ve been busy,” he said. “And what would I do at the Wayne Gala? Dance with Bruce Wayne all night like a fairy tale princess?”

Luthor chuckled. “I’m sure you’d look very fetching in a ballgown,” he said.

Clark laughed as well. “What can I do for you?” he asked. “Sorry buildin’s been delayed…I seem to have misplaced my readin’ glasses.”

“A bit disappointing, but I’m sure they’ll turn up.” Luthor’s smile dropped. “No, at the Gala I was speaking to a very intelligent young man about how wheat prices seem to be falling…something I’ve noticed over the last few years. So I’m looking to drive our price up.”

“And how d’you plan t’do that?” Clark asked.

“By producing less,” Luthor said. “Have you planted the winter crop yet?”

“Last week,” Clark said. “Had t’go in before the frost.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Luthor said. “Nothing else to do but destroy half of it.”

Clark blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Destroy half the fields,” Luthor repeated. “I need you to grow less than usual.”

“But…even if we cain’t sell it, there are people in Gotham who could use it!” Clark protested. “The poor, the homeless…destroyin’ crop don’t help no one!”

“Are you suggesting that we just give the crop away?” Luthor said. “Kent, there’s a reason you’ll always be a farm hand. You can’t drive prices up without scarcity or high demand.”

“But…”

“You do as you’re told, Kent.” Luthor’s eyes were hard. “Either you destroy half the crop or I’ll destroy all of it. Am I clear?”

Clark took a deep breath and lowered his eyes. “It’ll need to grow a bit,” he mumbled. “Only way t’git ridda it right now would be to dig it up by hand…in a few weeks, I can just cut it down.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Luthor said. “And you’ll start building today?”

“As soon as these plans are ready,” Clark said.

“Excellent.” Luthor smirked. “I look forward to seeing your progress.”

*

Clark threw the two-by-fours into the truck more angrily than he’d intended. Two weeks spent planting, and half of it would go to waste, all so Luthor could create an artificial shortage. And Clark wouldn’t see profit from any of it.

He had just picked up the next stack of wood when a very slick car pulled up. Clark barely glanced at it as he tossed the bundle into the truck bed. No doubt one of Luthor’s people, here to harass him.

It wasn’t until he heard a soft cough that Clark looked up into the steel grey eyes of Bruce Wayne. He felt himself grow hot, suddenly aware of just how badly he was sweating and how hideous this particular flannel shirt was.

“…Bruce,” he said. “I, uh…what’re y’doin’ here?” He didn’t bother hiding his accent, too shaken to care what Bruce thought of him anymore.

Bruce raised his eyebrows and leaned on the fence. “I wanted to return your glasses,” he said, pulling them out of his jacket.

“Oh.” Clark put down the stack and went over. “Y’didn’t have’t’come all the way out here…y’coulda just put ‘em in the mail.”

“And risk them getting broken?” Bruce asked.

Clark stared at him. “I…how’d’you find out where I live?” he asked, mentally cursing Kara.

“Jason told me,” Bruce said.

“S’pose I shoulda seen that comin’,” Clark muttered. “She only promised not to tell you.”

“Was it really that bad?” Bruce asked.

“Well, no, but…” Clark glanced around. “S’pose if Jason told you where I live, he also told you ‘bout Luthor.”

“What he knows,” Bruce said. “Is that why you’re not looking?”

“Yeah,” Clark said. “I got too much debt to pay off and too much work to do.” He turned back to his wood piled and picked up the next stack. “So if you’ll excuse me, I oughtta git back t’it.”

He threw the wood into the truck and turned to pick up the next stack. To his shock, Bruce had stepped over the fence and already picked it up. “Jason said you don’t want help with the debt,” Bruce said.

“Jason’s right,” Clark said. “It’s my problem…and I don’t need your charity.”

“I won’t offer it,” Bruce said, tossing the wood into the truck. “But if I can’t help with the debt, at least let me help with the work.”

Clark stared as Bruce shrugged his suit jacked off and tossed it carelessly over the fence. He then unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them back before picking up the next stack and tossing it in with the others. Finally, Clark spoke. “Y’cain’t work in that,” he said. “That suit costs more’n this entire farm.”

Bruce glanced at him. “What would you suggest?” he asked.

Clark sighed. “I got somea my pa’s old clothes in the house,” he said. “They oughtta fit you…c’mon.” He turned toward the house, Bruce following him with a slight smile on his face.

*

Ten minutes later, they were back outside. Clark tried not to blush too much, because Bruce Wayne should not have looked that attractive in flannel and jeans. They finished loading the truck and got into the cab.

“So what are we building?” Bruce asked as Clark drove to the edge of the property, where a very broken-down little shack stood.

“Chicken coop,” Clark said. “We’re startin’ livestock in the spring, which means a lotta rebuildin’.” He flinched a bit. “Sorry…I mean, we will start…”

“Don’t,” Bruce said. “I like the way you talk…it sounds more natural.”

Clark grinned ruefully. “I keep thinkin’ I’ll change it…but…”

“Don’t change anything, Clark,” Bruce said. “Not one thing.”

“I’ll do my best,” Clark said. “C’mon…you lift, I’ll hammer.”

“Think I’ve never used a hammer before?” Bruce asked, a teasing smile around his lips.

“I’d be shocked, city boy,” Clark said. “Don’t’y’jist hire someone else t’do all the work fer you?”

“If you think for one second that Alfred lets me get away with that, you’re going to be shocked when you meet him,” Bruce said.

Clark gave him a look. “I seen yer hands,” he said. “I felt yer hands. They’ve never done a day’s work in their life. Speakin’ of…” He rummaged through his toolbox for a moment before he found a pair of work gloves. “Put these on if y’don’t wanna bleed all day.”

Bruce took them and pulled them on. “What about you?”

“My hands stopped bein’ pretty years ago,” Clark said. “Now c’mon. We’re wastin’ daylight.”

Bruce followed and they started unloading the truck. They were silent as they worked, the noise of the outdoors enough. Somehow, the silence was preferable, their movements doing all the speaking for them. Without a word being spoken, they finished an entire wall within a few hours.

Once it was done, Clark hopped up on the truckbed. Bruce joined him as Clark produced a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, passing it to Bruce.

Bruce took a drink and handed it back. “How long?” he asked.

Clark sighed as he sipped at the water. “Five years,” he said. “I was in my third year’a college…not quite ready to graduate. And I git a letter...not from Ma, or Pa, but from a lawyer, sayin’ that Pa was killed in an accident and Ma died’a the shock. And…well, that was it fer me. I packed up, dropped outta school and came back to find I’d inherited a lotta land, a house that needed a lotta repairs, and a whole heap’a debt that I couldn’t pay.”

Bruce laid his hand over Clark’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That…that must have been terrible.”

“It is,” Clark said. “But…well, I still got this place. Least I haven’t lost it entirely. I may not control it, but it’s somethin’ I can still be proud of.”

“You should be,” Bruce said. “I mean…I don’t know much about farming, but it looks like you’ve done pretty well.”

Clark nodded, remembering Luthor’s orders from the morning. “I try my best,” he said. “Well…you got kids, I got twenty acres’a wheat and startin’ next year, probably two dozen hens.”

“I’ll trade you,” Bruce said. At Clark’s look, he sighed. “Well…not every day. But sometimes, I think…being out of the manor…not having anyone but myself to look after might be easier.”

“Nah, I git it,” Clark said. “I think…if I had someone else t’take care of, I’d end up takin’ care of myself better. Just cause…there’s somethin’ else on the line.”

Bruce smiled. “So,” he said. “Now that we’re done with the work you wanted to do, shall we have dinner?”

Clark blushed. “I, uh…I don’t got much in the house,” he mumbled.

Bruce shrugged. “Will you turn into a pumpkin if you’re not home by midnight?”

“No…” Clark said.

“Then come on,” Bruce said. He hopped off the truckbed and offered a hand to Clark. “Let’s clean up, then we can go into Gotham and I’ll show you how the other half lives.”

Clark hesitated, then took Bruce’s hand. “What, I make y’work all day and then you buy me dinner?”

“Got a problem with that?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Clark said. He let Bruce help him down from the truck and led the way into the house. “Go ahead and shower,” he said. “I need to iron my suit.”

*

An hour later, they were driving into Gotham, both clean and well-dressed. Clark glanced at Bruce. “By the way,” he said. “I’d, uh…prefer it if Luthor didn’t know I was seein’ you. I don’t think he’d like it.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “He owns you that much?”

“Yes,” Clark said. “He can make my life more miserable than it already is…so…”

“Understood,” Bruce said. “I’ll make sure we’re discreet.” He glanced across. “Put your glasses back on, that might throw him off.”

Clark pulled them out of his pocket and slipped them on. “Yer right,” he said. “Sorry, I jist…”

“I get it,” Bruce said. “Though I don’t know how long it can stay a total secret.”

“No one knows who I am,” Clark said. “Even if a picture shows up in the tabloids, it’s…not awful.”

“Okay,” Bruce said. He pulled up in front of a restaurant that Clark knew was far nicer than anyone like him should even be close to. “Here we are.”

Clark got out of the car, looking around in wonder and slight fear. He knew just from looking that this was a place that didn’t even list prices on the menu. “I’m really not worth all this,” he said.

“You’re the first person I’ve felt any sort of connection with in five years besides my kids,” Bruce said. “You’re worth a lot more than this.”

Clark looked down, but followed Bruce inside. They were seated immediately, no doubt because of Bruce’s status. The whole place was amazing, light and crystal and soft music and Clark wanted to cry at just how nice it all was.

Bruce glanced at him. “Wine?” he asked.

“I…sure,” Clark said. “I dunno anythin’ ‘bout it…”

“Don’t worry,” Bruce said. “I do.” He reached over and took Clark’s hand, staring deep into his eyes. “And I’m going to make sure you have the best of everything.”

Clark honestly didn’t remember much more about the evening. He knew that they ate, and drank, and talked about a million things—Bruce’s kids, Clark’s life on the farm, business, economics—but none of it seemed to matter, because Bruce was holding his hand and Clark was drowning in Bruce’s eyes and no matter how nice everything else was, it was only Bruce that Clark could focus on.

But eventually, Clark found himself finishing a cup of coffee he didn’t remember asking for and Bruce was handling the waiter and the evening was over. “I…thank you,” Clark said. “This has been…more amazin’ than anythin’ I’ve ever imagined.”

“Keep imagining,” Bruce said. “Because…if you’ll have me…this is just the start.”

Clark nodded slowly. “I…it’d be nice t’try,” he said. “I like you. And…well, Kara keeps tellin’ me I need to live a little.”

“I think Kara’s right,” Bruce said as he led Clark out to the car. He considered Clark. “Evening doesn’t have to end here…”

Clark shook his head. “It really does,” he said. “I got work t’do in the mornin’. And…I don’t wanna take this too fast.”

Bruce nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll take you home...can I help you again tomorrow?”

“I mean…if y’want,” Clark said. “But doncha have a huge company to run?”

Bruce shrugged. “Dick handles the day-to-day operations,” he said. “And Tim and Barbara help with that…they only call me in for the really big decisions these days.”

“Ah yes,” Clark said. “The idle rich…y’git a huge salary and leave the real work to someone else.” His smile was teasing.

Bruce grinned back. “I like to think of it as training for them,” he said. “They’re all set to inherit the company, so having them run it while I can still steer them in the right direction can only be beneficial.”

Clark nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “But…I mean, yer not old.”

Bruce was quiet as he started the car and drove. Finally, he said, “You said you were in your junior year of college five years ago?”

“Yes,” Clark said.

“Put it this way,” Bruce said. “You’re closer to Dick’s age than mine…I mean, he was half-grown when I got him and I was way too young to be raising him, but…”

“Does it bother you?” Clark asked.

“No,” Bruce said. “But I’m starting to feel old.”

“Pa always said yer only as old as y’feel…though that would make me about eighty years old most days,” Clark said.

Bruce laughed. “I’m right up there with you,” he said. “I guess…our lives just aged us more than usual.”

Clark nodded. “Still,” he said. “It’s not all bad…Right now, it’s actually pretty good.”

Bruce smiled at him. “It is,” he said. “It really is.”

*

Bruce was still smiling when he got home that night. The kids were all still awake, trying to look casual.

Damien was the first to look up. “How did it go?” he asked.

“It went well,” Bruce said. “He’s nice…we had a good time.”

“What were you doing for six hours, anyway?” Jason asked.

“Building a chicken coop, then having dinner,” Bruce said.

“Yeah?” Dick asked. “Where’d you take him?”

“La Pantoufle en Verre,” Bruce said.

The effect was immediate. Tim and Cass choked on their drinks, Barbara’s laptop fell to the ground, Steph looked like she was going to faint and Dick actually fell off his chair.

“Really?!” Jason said. “Bruce…”

“It was a first date,” Bruce said. “I wasn’t going to hold back.”

“Dare I ask what the bill was?” Tim asked.

“No,” Bruce said. “You know I don’t care about that.”

“But…” Steph said. “But that’s where you always took Selina,” she finally said.

Bruce closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. “That’s why…I have good memories of it. And…I didn’t want it to always be sad. So…I can remember it as the last place I saw her alive and happy…or I can remember it as the place where I got to knock the socks off a handsome farmboy.” He looked at them seriously. “Which would you all prefer?”

There was silence for a moment before Cass spoke. “We’d prefer you to be happy,” she said. “And if Mr. Kent makes you happy, and you want to replace the sad memories with good ones…you should.”

Bruce smiled. “Thank you,” he said. He stood for a moment as the kids recollected themselves before he beckoned to Steph. “I have a job for you,” he said in an undertone.

Steph raised her eyebrows. “For me?”

“I need someone sneaky who can drive,” Bruce said. “And since you do all your schoolwork online, it shouldn’t disrupt that.”

“What is it?” Steph asked.

“I need you to tail Lex Luthor,” Bruce said. “Monitor where he is at all times.”

“Okay…” Steph said. “But…why?”

“He can’t find out about me and Clark,” Bruce said. “So I need you to tail him and warn me if he’s ever headed towards where we are.”

Steph studied him for a moment before nodding. “All right,” she said. “I can do that…but you’d better keep the press out of it as well.”

“Let me worry about that,” Bruce said. “Just…do whatever you need to do.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her one of his credit cards. “Don’t misuse this,” he said.

Steph took it. “I won’t,” she promised. “I won’t let you down, Bruce.”

“Thank you.”

*

Clark hadn’t been so happy at any point in the last five years as he was for the next month. Bruce was an almost constant presence, arriving in the mornings to help with whatever work was needed, and then pulling Clark into Gotham for romantic dates, long walks and discussions and hand-holding, the occasional kiss when Bruce was certain no one was looking.

It was perfect, or would have been if not for the occasional buzz of Bruce’s phone that alerted them when Luthor was likely to appear. Clark asked once how Bruce had arranged it as they worked on the roof.

“I’ve got Steph following him,” Bruce said without a trace of shame. “She stays in LexCorps all day and texts me when Luthor’s leaving the building, and when he’s coming this way, she lets me know that too.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Clark asked. “If he sees her, he might accuse her of corporate espionage.”

“She stays in the public coffee shop,” Bruce said. “And her face isn’t too well-known outside the manor. She dresses down enough that even if he sees her, he probably wouldn’t recognize her.”

Clark nodded but still looked worried. “I don’t want any of y’all to git in trouble on my behalf.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Bruce said. “We Waynes like a bit of trouble.”

“Still…”

“Clark,” Bruce said. “Would you rather Luthor caught us together?”

Clark shook his head. “Just…tell her to be careful,” he said.

“You can tell her yourself,” Bruce said. “Tonight, after we’re done with this, we’re going to the manor for dinner.”

Clark blinked. “What?”

“It’s been a month,” Bruce said. “You’ve met half my kids, and it’s time you met the other half. I want this to be long-term, but…”

“I understand,” Clark said. “I just…it’s a big step.”

“It is,” Bruce agreed. “But a necessary one.”

“Yeah,” Clark said. “And…I do wanna meet them, just…” He gestured around them.

“They’ll accept it,” Bruce said. “Like I have.”

Clark smiled a little. “I hope so,” he said.

“And…” Bruce hesitated. “If you want to pack an overnight bag…”

Clark bit his lip and thought for a moment. Up to this point, they’d been fairly tame in their affections, but he knew that eventually Bruce would ask. And now…

“I, uh…I dunno what you expect of me, but…”

“I don’t expect anything,” Bruce said. “I just…wanted to make the offer. You don’t have to accept.”

Clark was quiet for a long moment before he nodded. “I…I’d like to stay,” he said. “If you want me to.”

Bruce smiled. “I’d like nothing better.” He looked over their work. “We done here?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Hopefully it’ll hold up for the winter.” He turned and scaled down the ladder. Bruce followed and they went into the house to clean up.

*

Wayne Manor was just as impressive the second time seeing it as it had been the first. Clark still felt completely out of his depths as he followed Bruce up the steps to the door.

“We’re not being too formal,” Bruce said.

“So why’d you hand me a turtleneck that costs as much as college?” Clark asked.

“Not too formal doesn’t mean you can show up in flannel.” Bruce smiled as he unlocked the door. “Besides, it’s a good color on you.”

“I don’t know how you got my clothing sizes.”

“Kara.”

They both laughed as they entered the house, though they stopped almost at once as two boys dashed past them. The smaller was clutching a sweater, and the older one was topless, shouting.

“DAMIEN AL-GHUL WAYNE, IF YOU DON’T GIVE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW…!”

They were almost instantly stopped by a dark figure dropping from the rafters onto the younger boy. “Got him!” she cried happily.

The younger boy rolled, knocking both children over. The older boy caught up and grabbed his sweater, pulling it on while shaking his head, but not before Clark spotted a number of scars over the boy’s chest and back. “Thanks, Cass,” he said.

There was a peal of laughter from above them. Clark glanced up to see Dick sitting up in the rafters, watching the scene with a Cheshire cat grin. Dick waved. “Look who’s home!” he called.

The three kids on the floor all turned. The older boy went bright red, while the other two merely looked unimpressed.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Dick, come down from there,” he commanded. Dick only grinned and stood up before flipping gracefully off the beam, catching the chandelier and swinging himself down, landing perfectly on his feet.

“Clark, this is Tim, Damien, and Cass,” Bruce said. “Kids, this is Clark.”

Tim put out his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“And you,” Clark said.

“Sorry about…that,” Tim said, gesturing and Damien and Cass, who were brushing themselves off.

“It’s a normal occurrence,” Dick said. He grinned. “Always dinner and a show around here.”

“Yes, that was quite impressive,” Clark said.

“Circus,” Dick said, as though that explained everything.

“Where are your siblings?” Bruce asked.

“Barbara’s doing something with the security system and Steph’s not home yet,” Cass said. “And I don’t know where Jason is.”

Clark glanced at Bruce, who didn’t seem overly concerned. “Well, all of you get washed up,” he said. “Dick, get Babs and find Jason.”

The kids all nodded and hurried off. Damien threw a mistrustful look at Clark as he went, but stayed quiet.

Bruce shook his head. “Honestly,” he muttered before smiling at Clark. “Come on…we’ve got a bit before dinner.”

Clark followed Bruce down the hall to a small parlor. Bruce guided Clark to a couch and sat him down. “They seem like good kids,” Clark said.

“They are, really,” Bruce said. “Just a bit…rambunctious.”

“I mean…they’re young,” Clark said. “They should be.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “Though my chandeliers suffer for it.”

“Oh, how tragic,” Clark said. “Y’might have’t’reinforce ‘em sometimes.”

“I already have,” Bruce said with a laugh.

Just then, the door opened and a blonde girl walked in, looking rather tired. She wandered to a chair and collapsed, eyes closed.

“Bad day, Steph?” Bruce asked.

One eye opened. “So boring,” she muttered. “I think he’s doing some sort of major deal because he was in the meeting room for _hours_. And it’s not like the coffee shop is any good.”

“You actually went to the upper floors?” Bruce asked. “How?”

“Easy,” Steph said. “I just carried a folder and followed someone with an ID. Just to make sure Luthor was occupied.”

“Knew you sneaking into my office would pay off,” Bruce said with a chuckle.

“But…wasn’t that an unnecessary risk?” Clark asked, not wanting to tell Bruce’s daughter off.

Steph looked at him for a minute before she grinned. “I think it was a very necessary risk,” she said.

“I…y’oughtta be careful,” Clark mumbled. “Luthor can be dangerous.”

“Thanks for the advice, Mr. Kent,” Steph said. “But I can handle myself.”

Clark smiled. “Well, thanks for your help,” he said. “And call me Clark.”

“All right.”

“Have you seen Jason anywhere?” Bruce asked.

“He’s probably upstairs,” Steph said. “Alfred will find him.” She leaned forward, grinning. “So, Clark…I hear you were studying journalism before…everything?”

Clark blinked. “Well, yes,” he said. “But...how…?”

“We have ways,” Steph said. “What I wanted to know is what you think of the media these days.”

Clark raised an eyebrow but smiled. “I’m glad I got outta journalism,” he said.

Steph laughed. “Too much sensationalism?”

“Sensationalism and the fact that the media is more concerned with profit than truth,” Clark said. “But I guess I was like everyone else—I thought I could be Carl Bernstein and change the world. Then…well, it only took two years to break that delusion.”

Steph nodded. “I’ve been reading a lot of newspapers recently, and I was shocked at how fear-mongering they are.”

“Economics or politics?”

The conversation continued for several minutes before there was a gentle cough from the door. Clark looked up to see an elderly man in a suit standing very properly. “Excuse me for interrupting,” he said. “But dinner is served.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said. He stood up and offered Clark his arm. “Shall we?”

Steph laughed at them.

*

Dinner was pleasant, if very loud.

Clark realized he should have expected it, with so many young people around, but it still overwhelmed him slightly. After five years of living alone, barely speaking to anyone besides Kara and Luthor, to be suddenly surrounded by so many people and peppered with questions was…odd.

The kids were generally cheerful. Dick and Barbara did most of the talking, both going a million miles a second and finishing each other’s sentences, laughing and joking at everything. Jason was open, friendly, and Clark couldn’t resist a small interrogation of his own. After all, Kara was all he had.

Tim was serious, quiet, and clearly far smarter than his years. Well, they were all more intelligent than their ages suggested, but it clearly weighed on Tim more than the others. He asked Clark a few clipped questions, and then seemed let content to let Steph speak for him, continuing the conversation with bubbly grace and charm. Clark learned that Tim ran the Wayne Foundation in spite of being only seventeen years old, and that Steph was set to graduate high school a year early and was hoping to find herself a good position away from Wayne Enterprises.

“Not that I don’t love working with my family day in and day out,” she said. “But I should see how the rest of the world works.”

“Don’t lie, Steph,” Dick said.

“You just hate us,” Barbara added.

“Or are afraid we’ll show you up,” Dick said.

Steph stuck her tongue out at them.

“Manners, Stephanie,” Bruce said.

Cass spoke little, but she was relaxed, laughing at the jokes around her. She was just as serious as Tim, and shyer, clearly uncomfortable with all the people at the table.

And Damien…well, Damien did not say a word all evening unless spoken to, and sent Clark continuous mistrustful looks. Clark had to remind himself that the boy was very young and going through a lot of changes, though it was still a bit hurtful as his old doubts crept up with every glare Damien gave him. Who was he, Clark Kent, to be sitting in the dining room of Wayne Manor, chatting with the richest family in Gotham as though he belonged there? Who was he to just move into their lives and take their father’s heart? Who was he to presume he might one day fill the role of a second parent to them?

But finally, the meal was over and the kids all dispersed, mumbling excuses about homework or research or just “an early night.” Given by the smirks Dick and Jason sent his way, Clark knew they were just trying to get out of the way.

“They’re nice kids,” he said once he and Bruce had retired back to the parlor.

“They are,” Bruce agreed. “They’re the best things that ever happened to me.”

Clark smiled, but then his doubts overcame him. “Damien seems a bit…less pleased about this,” he said.

Bruce sighed. “I imagine,” he said. “Damien is…well, it’s always been hard on him. For the first five years of his life, there were new people coming in all the time…new kids who he’d have to share attention with…Selina, then other prospects…he’s a bit clingy.”

“You should spend some time with him,” Clark said gently. “Next week…we’ve gotten far enough that I can finish everythin’ on my own from here.”

“You’re right,” Bruce said. “I just…this was all so new and wonderful…”

“I understand,” Clark said. “It’s been amazin’…and it’ll keep bein’ amazin’. But I don’t wanna supplant yer kids.”

“You could never…”

“Then show him that.” Clark smiled. “After tomorrow afternoon, I don’t wanna see y’again ‘til next Saturday. Then we can renegotiate.”

“It’s a promise,” Bruce said. “But right now, there’s something else I’d like to negotiate with you…if you’re still up for staying tonight.”

Clark hesitated, then nodded. “Just…I never done anythin’ before, so…be gentle with me?”

Bruce smiled and took Clark’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want. I promise.”

Clark nodded and let Bruce lead him to the bedroom.

There was a spark in the air of both anticipation and anxiety. Clark tried to keep his breathing steady as Bruce closed and locked the door.

But Bruce still noticed. He walked over slowly and took Clark in his arms, gently rubbing his back. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Clark took a steadying breath and leaned into Bruce. “I…I dunno what I’m doin’,” he mumbled. “I’m scared…”

Bruce kissed him tenderly. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to stop this here, we can.”

“No,” Clark said. “I…I wanna be with you.”

“Okay.” They kissed again, deeper this time, and Clark felt himself get lost in it all over again. It was like the first time, only better, the knowledge of what was to come making it more lovely than before.

Bruce pulled back reluctantly. “Can I undress you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark nodded once, his eyes closed. The glasses went first, a gentle lifting of weight from his face. The too-nice shirt was next, a brief struggle ensuing before it hit the floor, then there were warm arms around him again, a mouth on his neck kissing at his pulse point. Clark gasped, clutching at Bruce’s shoulders and trying not to swoon like a damsel in a romance novel.

It wasn’t working.

“Okay?” Bruce whispered.

“Yes,” Clark breathed.

“Sit,” Bruce ordered, gently pushing Clark toward the bed.

Clark fell back, his breathing ragged and heart pounding. Bruce knelt on the floor in front of him and reached for Clark’s belt. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

The belt came off and Clark’s pants hit the floor. He gasped, shocked. Bruce smirked up at Clark before eyeing the bulge in Clark’s boxers. “Well, hello,” he said.

Clark stared, wide-eyed, as Bruce pulled away the last bit of clothing. It took every bit of will tha tclark had not to cover himself, his face and neck growing hot.

Bruce looked at him in awe. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m nothin’ special,” Clark mumbled, the flush spreading to his chest and shoulders.

“You’re gorgeous,” Bruce said before he leaned forward and took Clark’s hard cock in his mouth.

Clark cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily. Bruce pushing him down and kept going, bobbing his head up and down and sucking hard. It was too much, too fast, too good and Clark couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but let it happen.

“Bruce, I’m…”

He pulled away, just in time. “That long, huh?” he said, his voice teasing.

If Clark wasn’t already blushing, he would definitely do so now. “You’re the first,” he said. “Fer anythin’.”

Bruce smiled and stood. He kissed Clark again before backing away and undressing, each layer of clothing falling away like a dream. Clark watched, entranced and ashamed, desperate and still terrified.

Bruce returned, gently pushing Clark down on the bed to lie down, kissing him deeply again. Clark kissed back and took a breath, centering himself. Whatever happened, he could stop it. He held power here. He trusted Bruce not to hurt him, not to use him. Here, he was a person, not property.

Hands over his chest and hips, lips on his neck, an answering hardness pressed against his, and all Clark could do was clutch at Bruce’s shoulders and press back, trying not to make too much noise.

“Relax,” Bruce whispered. “The kids are in a completely separate wing...they won’t hear anything.”

Clark stared up at him, helpless to resist. Bruce’s grey eyes were almost black, his expression something Clark would keep in his mind for the rest of time.

Bruce kissed him, their groins grinding together and it was so much. Clark dugs his fingernails into Bruce’s broad shoulders and cried out as he came, burning and flying, shame and lust and wonder crashing through him.

Bruce groaned and bit down on Clark’s shoulder as he followed, pressing hard against him and it was all so good…pure and yet so sinful…

They lay panting for a moment before Bruce kissed Clark, gentler this time. “Okay?” he whispered.

Clark nodded, his eyes closed. “Yes,” he said.

Eventually they moved apart, sticking but neither of them was particularly upset. Bruce found his feet and retreated for a moment, returning with a cloth. They cleaned up and resituated, curling together.

Clark grinned. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed. They kissed once more before settling down. “Good night, Clark,” Bruce muttered.

“Night,” Clark murmured back.

As he drifted off, nestled on Bruce’s shoulder with Bruce’s fingers running through his hair, Clark could have sworn he heard a faint “I love you” from above him.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce waited until the next morning to talk to Damien, once everyone else was gone for the day.

“Damien,” he said.

“Yes, Father?” Damien answered, looking up from his book.

Bruce hesitated. He wasn’t the best at talking about emotions. “I, um…noticed last night you’re not very happy about me seeing Clark,” he finally said. “Do you not like him?”

Damien sighed and put his book aside. “I do not…not like him,” he said. “I like that you are happier. And he is very nice.”

“But?”

“But…” Damien looked about as uncomfortable as Bruce felt. “You are never here,” he finally said. “And…no one else has stayed. I do not wish to become attached to someone who is just going to die or leave again.”

Bruce sat back, struck by this. “I see,” he said. “Damien…I know that there haven’t been many people in your life you can rely on…”

“Only family,” Damien said. “And not even all of them.”

“Yes,” Bruce agreed. “I’m…sorry that things didn’t work out between your mother and me. And I know that losing Selina was difficult on all of us. But…we can’t go through life believing that everyone will leave us.”

“It has only been one month,” Damien said. “Mr. Kent is a good man. But I do not wish to become too close to him…I do not want to see all our hearts get broken again.”

“It won’t be like that,” Bruce said. “This time…this time, I’ve got it right, Damien.”

Damien considered him for a moment. “Do you promise?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “I promise.” He smiled. “But right now, Clark has work to do and he told me to stay out of it. So why don’t we spend the day together?”

Damien hesitated, then looked up shyly. “Can we go to the animal shelter and walk all the dogs?” he asked.

Bruce laughed. “You got it.”

*

Three days later, Kara waltzed into Clark’s kitchen early in the morning. “Looks like someone got the stick out of his ass,” she said in a knowing voice.

Clark merely raised his eyebrows and coughed a bit. “You and Jason need t’stop gossipin’,” he said. “Never know who might be listenin’.”

“What, worried about your bad reputation?” Kara teased.

“Nah,” Clark said. “But y’don’t wanna go spreadin’ rumors ‘bout that night Wayne fella. I hear he gits mean.”

Kara laughed. “Seriously, you look better,” she said. “Happy, anyway. Suits you.”

Clark coughed again. “Gee, thanks,” he said.

Kara frowned. “How long have you had that cough?”

“Just since yesterday,” he said. “Weather changin’ and all. It’ll go away soon.” He glanced at her. “What brings y’here, anyway?”

“Just wanted to check in,” she said. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re on your own this week and I wanted to know if you need any help.”

“Nah, I got it,” Clark said. “Thanks though.” He started coughing again.

Kara frowned. “Clark…”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Seasonal cold. I’ll be fine.”

“If you insist,” Kara said. “Call if you need help.”

“I will.”

Kara nodded and left. Clark waited until she was gone before looking through the window at his fields.

How long had it taken to plant them? How much work to grow this wheat from seeds, only to have to tear it up again? How many people in Gotham would go hungry next year because of an artificial shortage that he created?

Before Clark could dwell on it too much, Luthor pulled up. Clark sighed and got the coffee started, resisting the urge to spit in it.

Luthor stormed into the house like he owned it. Nothing unusual, at least not until Clark caught sight of the newspaper Luthor was clutching and the look of rage on his face.

**“BRUCE WAYNE SPOTTED WITH GALA MYSTERY MAN.”**

Underneath, grainy and distant but still distinct, was a photo of Bruce and Clark as they walked hand-in-hand through Gotham Square. Clark remembered the day well; they hadn’t done anything, just window shopped and debated the merits of various poets. Clark had even taken off his glasses, trusting that no one would notice them.

Clearly he’d been wrong.

Clark debated with himself for several minutes before he met Luthor’s eye. “Got a problem?” he asked coolly.

“Since the Gala?” Luthor said. “You’ve been lying to me and neglecting your work for over a month?”

“I ain’t neglectin’ anythin’,” Clark said. “Everythin’ y’wanted has been done. And last I checked, my personal life is none of yer business.”

Luthor glared. “It’s my business when you start sneaking out to con your betters,” he snarled. “What was the plan? Play the damsel until he took pity on you and bought the debt so you could keep playing him? Or are you trying to marry above your station? Want to leave Ma and Pa’s farm and pretend you’re better than this?”

Clark glared right back, anger giving him strength. “It ain’t like that,” he said. “I don’t want his money and I don’t care if he gits me outta here. I love him. And I don’t care if y’think he’s above me, cause if dreamin’ above my station means not bein’ treated like shit, I’m damn well gonna take it!”

“You think you deserve better?” Luthor spat. “This is what you’re good for, Clark. This is all you’ve ever been good for. You don’t have the brains or the money to do anything else, so you can either take a job and a roof over your head, or you can go crawling to your precious Mr. Wayne and hope he doesn’t mind you in his bed?” Luthor paused for a minute. “Or is that what you’re good for? Warming his bed? Nice little arrangement for you? Would he keep you if I threw you out?”

“I dunno,” Clark said. “Why don’t y’find out?” He knew he was treading on thin ice here, but he was sick of it. Sick of Luthor, sick of the farm being destroyed, sick of being pushed around like this. “Y’keep threatenin’ to throw me out…why don’t you do it?” He smirked as Luthor’s eyes betrayed him. “Y’know y’cain’t find anyone else who’ll put up with half the shit I do fer what y’pay me. Y’know that if I leave, you’ll have t’start payin’ fer yer labor and that it won’t be done half as well. Y’still need me, Luthor, because fer whatever reason y’wanna keep this farm runnin’.”

Luthor glared for a moment. “I think you forget, Kent,” he growled. “You’re mine.” He pushed Clark back into the table and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Clark’s eyes widened in shock. This kiss wasn’t like what he had with Bruce. This wasn’t love, or curiosity, or two souls meeting. This was ownership, pure and simple domination, claiming and rough and terrible.

Clark shoved Luthor back hard before swinging a fist. It connected with Luthor’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

Clark stared for a moment before he stood up straight. “Y’don’t own me,” he said. “You might own everythin’ else, but not me. And I ain’t gonna take it.” He glared as Luthor stood up, dazed. “Now git out.”

Luthor glared at him for a moment, a bruise blossoming over his jaw. “This isn’t over,” he growled before he turned and stormed out of the house.

Clark watched him go, anger soon giving way to panic and exhaustion as he started coughing again. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He couldn’t believe Luthor had done that. And yet…

Clark sat down, breathing heavily. Come tomorrow, he’d likely be on Kara’s doorstep, begging her to take him in—he wouldn’t go to Bruce, wouldn’t use whatever they had—but…somehow, Clark still felt free.

He looked out at the fields again and decided to let them grow.

*

The rest of the day felt like a dream. With no future, Clark knew he’d be wasting his time doing any more work that day. He instead spent the time trying to think of what he would do once Luthor threw him out. Find a job somewhere. Manual labor, probably, but he wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t go to Bruce and prove Luthor’s point.

His cough got worse through the day and whatever he told Kara, Clark had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just a seasonal cold. Not that he’d ever find out—doctors definitely weren’t in his budget. He headed up the stairs, and even that much effort left him breathless and exhausted.

But this would likely be the last night he spent in this house. Clark touched everything, the photos on the wall, the furniture, his mother’s dresses, his father’s books. Tomorrow it would all be gone, taken away from him in one last show of power before he was finally free of Luthor forever.

“I’m sorry,” Clark whispered as he looked at his parent’s wedding portrait on the wall of their room. “I tried t’keep hold’a it…but I cain’t do it anymore. I found someone who makes me happy, someone who don’t jist use me and hurt me…and I won’t give him up fer anythin’…please…I know…y’all wanted better fer me. And I’ve found better…even if I gotta lose this.”

He stared for another moment before he sighed and dragged himself to bed. He hoped that Luthor might at least let him pack before throwing him out, though he doubted it.

Clark had gotten only a few hours of restless sleep before bright light and the smell of smoke woke him. He sat up, still groggy, and immediately started coughing.

As soon as he had gotten enough breath back, he stumbled out of bed. There was heat and smoke and something above him creaked ominously. Clark got to the bedroom door and wrenched it open, fighting his way through the smoke-filled hallway, struggling to breathe.

The fire was spreading through the house quickly, but Clark managed to get down the stairs and out the door. He stumbled away from the house, coughing violently, practically choking. It took him a few minutes to realize that instead of the October chill he expected, he was still surrounded by fire. Clark looked around; all of the wheat fields were ablaze, surrounding him.

Clark tried to run, tried to escape, but the fire was everywhere, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think as everything went black.

*

Kara woke with a start. Something was wrong, she just knew it. Without thinking, she grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table and hit Jason’s contact number.

In spite of the lateness of the hour, he still answered right away, insomnia clearly losing tonight. “Kara?”

“I need help,” Kara said. “I think something’s wrong with Clark.”

“Do you want me to get Bruce?”

“Not yet…I don’t want him to worry over a hunch. But can you come with me to check on him?”

“Of course.”

Kara hung up and pulled on a sweatshirt before heading out.

She picked Jason up and turned towards Smallville and that was when she saw the glow in the sky.

Jason didn’t question her as they drove well above the speed limit towards the farm. He merely sat by her, watching the blaze grow larger as they approached.

They were forced to stop just as they reached the farm. The entire property was burning, clearly out of control. Kara didn’t even turn off the engine before she leaped out of the car. “CLARK!” she screamed.

There was no answer. Before Jason could do anything, Kara ran into the fire. Jason debated following her, but then pulled out his phone and dialed 911 instead.

The ambulance and fire fighters arrived just as Kara reappeared, dragging Clark with her. Jason couldn’t tell if he was dead or just unconscious as the paramedics converged on them. Kara batted them away and dashed back to Jason. She had several burns on her hands and face, but otherwise seemed all right.

“Is he…?” Jason asked.

“He wasn’t breathing when I found him,” Kara said, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t know…”

“Go with him,” Jason said as Clark was loaded into the ambulance. “Those burns will need treatment…I’ll call Bruce.”

Kara nodded and went back. She hopped into the ambulance. Jason watched until they were gone before he dialed Bruce with shaking hands.

It was several rings before Bruce answered. “This had better be important,” he grumbled.

“Bruce…” Jason fought to keep himself under control.

“Jason?”

“Clark…his farm’s on fire.”

Jason could imagine Bruce sitting up and getting out of bed, no longer asleep. “What? What happened? Where is he?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Jason said. “Kara called because she was worried, so we came to check up on him and…it’s all gone…”

“Clark?”

“Kara pulled him out…the ambulance came and got them back to Gotham…”

“Are you with them?”

“Not yet…I just…”

Jason could hear Bruce’s indecision between comforting his son and going to Clark’s side. “Jay…”

“Go to him, Bruce…I’m okay.”

“All right,” Bruce said, and hung up.

Jason put the phone down and sat down on the hood of the car, barely noticing it was still running. He watched as the firefighters got the blaze under control and put it out. The sun was rising by the time the fire chief came over to talk to him.

“Your property?”

“No,” Jason said. “My…dad’s boyfriend owns it…the one who the paramedics took.”

The chief nodded. “Not much left, I’m afraid,” he said. “You can look through the bottom of the house, but…”

“Thank you,” Jason said.

The firefighters left. Jason sighed and stood up. Only then did he realize that the car had run out of gas sometime in the night.

Jason sighed and picked up his phone again. He glanced at what was left of the house as it rang and wondered just how much had been lost in the fire.

*

Kara had just been released from treatment and was waiting in the lobby when Bruce came hurtling in, looking way less put together than usual. He spotted her almost at once and hurried over. “Kara,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She nodded shakily. “Superficial for me,” she said.

Bruce nodded. “And…?”

“They’re still working on him.” Kara swallowed. “They…they had to resuscitate him on the way, but…”

Bruce closed his eyes, clearly forcing back tears as he sat down next to her. He clasped his hands and bowed his head, though whether he was praying or just trying to keep it together Kara wasn’t sure.

After a minute, he looked up. “Any idea how it happened?” he asked harshly.

Kara bit her lip. “I mean…I have suspicions, but…I can’t prove anything.”

“Luthor?”

“If…if he thought it wasn’t worth it…or if Clark angered him…he’s done…horrible things…Bruce, if you knew what went on in that house…”

Bruce’s eyes hardened. “Tell me,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Kara took a deep breath and started to tell Bruce everything—the debt, the heat being turned off in winter, Clark being forced to work through the heat, through the night, the weeks he spent without food, the months without hot water, the ever-growing list of repairs that were never paid for, the leers she’d seen Luthor send his way while he was working, the equipment that was never repaired or updated, the illnesses Clark had ignored until they went away or simply became part of him, the pain and exhaustion that had been present until Bruce had come into his life…

Bruce’s eyes grew harder as she spoke, his hands clenched in fury. He’d known that Clark’s life was harsh, but he hadn’t realized just how badly Luthor had abused him. And now…

“Family of Clark Kent?”

Kara and Bruce both stood as a doctor walked in. “Yes?” Kara asked, her voice desperate.

The doctor smiled. “We’ve finished,” she said. “He’s still on oxygen, but he should recover from the fire…the pneumonia, on the other hand…”

Bruce felt the air leave the room. Not again. He couldn’t sit here and listen to it again…he couldn’t lose someone else like this…

“Will he get better?” Kara’s voice cut through Bruce’s thoughts.

“I’m optimistic,” the doctor said. “He’s still asleep…the next few days will be crucial, but as long as he regains consciousness soon, I think he’ll make it.”

Kara nodded and squeezed Bruce’s hand. “Can we see him?” she asked.

“For a few minutes,” the doctor said. She turned and led them down the hall to a room.

The room was empty except for the last bed. Clark lay there, pale and still. He looked so small like this, so helpless.

Kara moved around the bed and took Clark’s hand. “Oh, Clark…”

Bruce knelt on the other side and ran his hand through Clark’s hair. “Please wake up,” he whispered. “Baby…please don’t leave me…”

There was no answer. Bruce stayed there for several minutes, just willing Clark to wake up, but nothing happened.

A nurse coughed behind them. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave now,” she said.

Bruce nodded and pressed a kiss to Clark’s forehead before he stood. Kara stood as well and followed Bruce out of the hospital. He barely noticed her follow him into the car, and it didn’t occur to him to take her home.

Bruce’s mind sharpened as he drove home. He knew what he needed to do, and he didn’t care what it cost him.

*

“BARBARA! TIM!”

Both appeared as Bruce stormed into the house, Kara at his heels. Both were sleepy-eyed and confused, and were followed by the rest of their siblings, all looking very frightened.

“Bruce?” Babs asked as they all followed him into the living room. “What’s happened? Where have you been?”

“Clark’s in the hospital,” Bruce said.

The kids all went from sleepy confusion to fear and worry. “What? What for?!” Dick asked.

“Someone set his farm on fire,” Bruce said. “And he was apparently already sick when it happened. The doctors don’t know if he’ll recover.”

There was shock around the room before Damien spoke. “You promised,” he said. “You said that nothing bad would happen this time.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. “And…I’m sorry.” He looked back at them. “But we think we know who’s responsible…we just need evidence. Barbara,” he said, turning to her. “I want you to hack LexCorps.”

Babs blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hack LexCorps. I want everything—everything about Clark, everything about the business. I want you to find any dirty deal or underhanded plot or…whatever can be used against him.”

“With pleasure,” Babs said. “But what if I don’t find anything?”

“Then plant something,” Bruce snapped. “I want him destroyed. I want him to be in my power and I want him to be unable to do a damn thing about it, clear?”

“Very,” Babs said, and ran to fetch her computer.

“Tim,” Bruce said. “I need everything you can find about labor and debt laws. All of it, no matter how boring or obscure.”

“On it,” Tim said, and hurried after Barbara.

“What can we do?” Cass asked.

Bruce looked at her for a long moment before he collapsed to his knees and opened his arms.

Cass and Damien took the hint immediately and ran to hug him. Bruce clutched his children in his arms, struggling not to cry on them, clutching the most precious things in his life close to his chest with no intention of letting go. A moment later and another pair of arms wrapped around all of them as Dick came over, pulling them all close. Twenty-three years old, and Bruce knew he would rely on Dick to take care of all of them for the next few days. Twenty-three, and having to be the adult.

It wasn’t fair, any of it. Clark shouldn’t have been hurt, shouldn’t have been in the hospital. Barbara shouldn’t have been risking jail time to bring down a man who had done far worse than her, Tim shouldn’t have been staying up reading law books, Bruce shouldn’t have been sitting on his living room floor crying and holding his kids…

A shrill ringing interrupted them. Dick reluctantly pulled away and answered. “Jay?”

Kara looked up, feeling awkward. Dick listened with pursed lips for a minute. “I’ll be there,” he said, and hung up. “The fire’s out,” he said. “But Jason ran the car down and needs to be picked up…I’m sorry, Kara, I’ll call a tow truck…”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll come with you…see if there’s anything worth saving.”

Dick nodded and kissed Bruce and his little siblings before leading Kara out.

Bruce let go of Cass and Damien. “Go back to bed,” he said. “No school tomorrow.”

They nodded and left. Bruce waited a moment and then followed.

*

_“Clark.”_

_Her voice was soft, familiar, and so, so warm. Clark tried to open his eyes, but it was still dark._

_Her hand was on his forehead, like he was a little boy again. He smiled slightly, feeling more safe, more comfortable._

_“Clark, sweetie, y’cain’t do this. Y’gotta wake up soon.”_

_He knew. He knew he had to wake up, had to pull through._

_“Son.” His voice was firm, tired, but so, so loving. “Y’ain’t ready t’come here…yer gonna be okay. Y’jist gotta go back.”_

_“That boy y’got,” she said. “He’s somethin’ special. He needs you…and those kids need y’too. They’ve lost enough.”_

_I know, Clark thought. I need them too._

_She kissed his forehead._

_“We’re so proud’a you,” he said. “We understand y’couldn’t fix it. But don’t worry…it’ll all come right.”_

_“Wake up now, sweetie,” she said. “Y’can do it. Jist open yer eyes and breathe.”_

_Clark nodded, or tried to. They vanished and slowly, Clark opened his eyes._

It was bright and harsh and sterile. Clark blinked a few times before he spotted Kara, sitting next to him and looking tired.

She smiled at seeing him awake. “Hey there,” she said softly.

Clark tried to ask where he was and what happened, but realized there was still an oxygen mask over his mouth.

“You’re okay,” she said. “You’re in the hospital…the farm burned down…we…there wasn’t much to save.”

He closed his eyes, blinking back tears. All of it, for nothing…

“You scared us real bad, Clark,” Kara continued, her own accent slipping. “Bruce’s beside himself…but he’s gittin’ t’Luthor. We’re gonna take care’a it, Clarky, I promise.”

And he knew she was upset, knew she was still scared because she hadn’t called him Clarky since they were kids. He reached out and grasped her hand.

She looked down, crying for a minute, before she stood. “I’ll call the doctor,” she said. “And Bruce…you just rest, Clark. We’ll handle everything.”

He nodded and closed his eyes again.

*

When Clark next woke, Bruce was there, looking exhausted. Clark reached out his hand and took Bruce’s.

Bruce smiled softly. “Hey, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They took you off the oxygen so you can talk now…if you want.”

Clark swallowed a few times. “How long?” he asked, his voice soft and harsh.

“Two days? Three? I kind of lost track.”

“Kids?”

“They’re okay…well, they’re shaken up, but I’ve found ways to keep them occupied.”

Clark nodded. “Sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bruce said. “It’s not your fault you got sick or that Luthor burned the farm down.”

“It is my fault,” Clark said. “If I hadn’t…” He trailed off, already knowing what Bruce’s reaction would be.

“Hadn’t what?” Bruce asked him.

Clark took several deep breaths, or as deep as he could manage. “Luthor found out ‘bout us,” he said. “And…he wasn’t happy ‘bout it. He…he don’t like the idea of someone else havin’…havin’ any sorta hold on me. He thinks…he wants to own me.”

“He doesn’t.”

“No,” Clark said. “But…he like havin’ that power…” He swallowed heavily. “He kissed me…I didn’t want it, I didn’t know he was that…entitled…and I punched him.”

Bruce’s jaw was clenched, the hand not holding Clark’s balled in a tight fist. “He assaulted you?” he said, his voice dangerous.

“…yes,” Clark said. “But…it’s over, I made it clear…I ain’t his. I ain’t gonna put up with it anymore.”

“Good,” Bruce said. “That’s…Clark, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how bad…”

“It’s over now,” Clark said. “Bruce, don’t…don’t do anythin’ that’s gonna git y’in trouble. He’s outta my life…I mean, I’m broke, unemployed and homeless, but…I ain’t his.”

“No,” Bruce said. “You aren’t…and you don’t have to be homeless…I’ve got plenty of space…even if…if you don’t want…”

Clark raised his eyebrows. “Bruce,” he said. “Are y’askin’ me t’move in with you?”

“I mean…” Bruce looked a bit embarrassed. “I know we’ve only been dating for a month, but…I can’t exactly leave you on the street, can I?”

“S’pose not,” Clark said, and coughed. “If I don’t die here.”

“You won’t,” Bruce said firmly. “I won’t let you.” He leaned over but stopped. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Clark nodded. “If this ain’t contagious.”

“I’ve been guaranteed it isn’t.” Bruce kissed him, gently, yielding, making it clear that Clark held the power, that he could pull away at any time.

Clark kissed back and smiled. “I’m gonna fall back asleep,” he said. “We’ll figger out the rest later.”

Bruce nodded. “You just rest,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He kissed Clark again and left the room.

*

“Got anything?” Bruce asked as he walked into the office where Babs and Tim were working.

“Plenty,” Babs said. “I’ve had to clear out a tablet to get everything you need on it, and I’m still digging. This guy should have been arrested about thirty times over for how he runs his business, let alone what he’s been doing to Clark.”

“What’s he done?” Bruce asked, picking up the tablet and looking at the folders upon folders that Babs had compiled.

“Highlights include skimming profits off shareholders and making under the table deals that the IRS will not be happy about,” Babs said. “But here’s the main one.” She reached over and selected a file.

Bruce skimmed the numbers in disbelief. “According to this, the debt on the Kent property was paid off three years ago,” he said.

“Yep,” Tim said, looking up from his own computer. “Not that Clark would know that if he wasn’t keeping track himself—and with the amount of shit Luthor was putting him through, of course he wasn’t.”

“Which means Luthor’s not only been abusing him, he’s been stealing from him,” Babs added.

Bruce put the tablet down before he broke it from how badly his hands were shaking. “Anything on those labor laws?” he asked Tim.

“Tons,” Tim said. “I’ve already called legal to get a case together.”

“And Dick pulled someone from accounting to run all the numbers,” Babs said. “They’ve come up with a very large figure of what we could get in restitution.” She passed Bruce a piece of paper with a lot of calculations on it.

Bruce skimmed through for a moment. “Call off the legal team,” Bruce said. “I don’t think this has to go to court…but keep Kara on standby, I might have a story for her.”

Tim nodded and started typing.

“Keep pulling evidence, Babs,” Bruce said. “But keep it on your harddrive for now…I think there’s enough on this tablet for me.”

“All right,” Babs said.

Bruce disconnected the tablet from Babs’s laptop and turned.

“Where are you going?” Tim asked.

Bruce turned and half-smirked. “I have a business meeting at LexCorps.”

*

Lex headed up to his office, feeling triumphant in spite of the bruise on his jaw. One less venture to worry about, a nice insurance check to compensate, and no more stupid farmboys to get in his way.

Of course, Kent hadn’t been reported dead in the papers, but it was only a matter of time. Lex had ensured that there had been no telephone access in the house for years, so it wasn’t like help could have gotten there in time. Served him right—what right did Kent have to deny him? To see another man in his place, to try and leave the life Lex had given him? How dare he refuse the offer, how dare he raise a hand against his betters?

Well. Never mind that now. Kent was gone, and there was nothing more to worry about. Lex opened the door to his office carelessly but then froze.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in Lex’s chair, feet up on the desk, cigarette in hand. He looked at Lex coolly as he entered.

“You’re late,” Wayne said.

“What are you doing in my office?” Lex asked, too shocked to register anything else.

“I was being dramatic,” Wayne said. “But it’s actually really uncomfortable.” He put his feet down and put the cigarette out. “Plus I don’t smoke, but it felt incomplete without it. Either way, you’re still late.”

Lex blinked. “I didn’t realize we had an appointment.”

“I think you expected one. Or did you think I wouldn’t find out what you did to Clark?”

Lex’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Oh, I think I can.” Wayne picked up a tablet and started clicking through it. “The debt…the offshore accounts…the deals with Oswald and Nygma and whoever else…the tax dodging…the fire…and Clark told me about the assault.”

“He hit me.”

“After you tried to rape him.”

“I didn’t do anything of the sort. It was just a kiss.”

“So you admit it.”

“It’s his word against mine and he’s dead.”

“Oh no,” Wayne said. “He’s very much alive and recovering.”

Lex went pale. How? How had the brat survived?

“Now, we can sit here and argue all day,” Wayne said. “But I have other appointments and if I have to look at your face for too long, I’m going to make the other side of your jaw match what Clark gave you, so let’s settle this now. I have all your records…every dirty deal, every little scheme, and I also have a very ambitious young reporter champing at the bit to get her hands on them. Now, I’d be happy to let her have them…let the press drag you through the mud, get the police involved if I need to…but I don’t think it’s necessary, do you?”

“How did you get all that?” Lex hissed. “How could you possibly know anything?”

Wayne smirked. “It doesn’t matter how,” he said. “Once it gets to the public, no one will care.”

Lex sighed. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Let’s see…” Wayne picked up a piece of paper. “You will pay Clark back for the last three years of farm profits you stole from him…plus an honest wage for his labor, and of course, the insurance payment for the fire, plus all his medical bills for the injury and illness he suffered from that.

“I can’t possibly know the amount…”

“Fortunately, I have good accountants.” Wayne passed him the paper. “I think this will be sufficient.”

Lex swallowed as he looked at the figure. “That’s ridiculous…”

“Of course, I’m sure Cat Grant will be very happy to publish the story about the Swiss deal.”

Lex glared before he sat down and very deliberately wrote out a check. He glowered as he passed it over to Wayne. “Is that sufficient?” he asked.

“It should be,” Wayne said, sliding it into his wallet. “Of course, if you try to cancel this as soon as I leave, the stories will hit the papers.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes,” Wayne said. “You’re going to resign as CEO of LexCorps. Not retire with benefits, resign.”

“How can I…”

“As a shareholder, I’d be much more comfortable with new leadership. Two weeks’ notice, Lex.”

Lex stared before he nodded sourly. “Anything else?”

“You stay away from us,” Wayne said. “You don’t contact me, or Clark, or our families ever again. One word out of you and Cat gets the files. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Wayne stood up and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Lex.” He grabbed his coat off the rack and left the office.

*

Clark was released from the hospital at the end of the week. Bruce kept quiet about his conversation with Luthor, not wanting to put Clark in any more distress.

The kids were all thrilled when they got back. Dick, of course, hugged them both, exclaiming his joy over the whole thing. Babs and Steph hugged them as well, while Jason, Tim and Cass were content to merely relay their relief and welcome verbally.

“Seriously,” Jason muttered to Clark. “It’s going to do all of us so much good to have someone like you around.”

“Haven’t convinced Kara to move in?” Clark teased.

“Working on it,” Jason assured him.

But the surprise came when Damien walked over to them, his small face too serious as usual. “I am glad you have recovered,” he declared, his voice very formal. “And I welcome you to the house of Wayne.”

“Thanks,” Clark said, glancing at Bruce, who only looked amused.

“Do not break Father’s heart,” Damien said. “I have knives.” He then gave Clark a quickly hug around the knees before running off again.

“I think it’s gonna be jist fine here,” Clark said.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “I think it is.”

*

It wasn’t until late that night, the kids in bed or at least their rooms, that Bruce sat Clark down in a small parlor and told him exactly what had transpired with Luthor.

Clark listened silently as Bruce explained everything Luthor had done to him, his face neutral. “So what’re we gonna do about it?” Clark asked. “Not like I can jist go back in time and fix it.”

“I’ve already done something,” Bruce said, and produced the check he’d gotten. “I went to see him and we…negotiated. He agreed to pay for all the damage he’s done and resign LexCorps, and I agreed not to leak all his secret files to the press.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Bruce…”

“I know,” Bruce said. “Blackmail is wrong, no one deserves it, ruining a man’s life isn’t nice even if he’s an asshole…”

“Nah,” Clark said. “I wasn’t gonna say any of that.” He smiled. “I mean…yeah, normally, but…that man made my life hell. He took everythin’ from me and still demanded more. He woulda been happy to keep me there as his personal plaything ‘til one of us died.” He reached over and took Bruce’s hand. “This is…I mean, he ain’t gonna be miserable. It’s not like y’took everythin’ from him. This check is a drop in the bucket fer him, and even without the company, he’s got plenty t’live on. But…it is fair.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s what I figured. And I made sure you won’t see him again.”

Clark looked down. “It’s really over,” he said.

“It is,” Bruce said. “Tomorrow, you deposit that check…then we can see about rebuilding the farm.”

Clark was quiet for a long time before he spoke. “I think…I think I’m gonna set farmin’ aside fer a bit,” he said. “If it’s all the same t’you…I’d rather stay here and finish school.”

Bruce smiled and kissed Clark’s hand. “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea,” he said.

Clark smiled back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

*

_One Year Later_

Steph walked back to her family, her white graduation robe almost blinding in the sun. She smiled as they all converged on her, hugging her.

“Congratulations, sweetie,” Clark murmured. “And that was a great speech.”

“Thanks, Clark,” she said. “And thanks for helping with it.”

He grinned as Bruce took over the hug. “Good work, Steph,” he said before he pulled back and smiled. “I got you a little something.”

“Oh?” Steph asked.

“Yes.” Bruce glanced at the rest of his kids, who all grinned at him as he pulled out an envelope.

Steph opened it and read the paper. “Bruce…” she said. “I…how?”

“The board was looking for a CEO,” Bruce said. “And having gone through three in the last year, they were a bit desperate, so they asked me if I’d buy the company and fix it. I didn’t want to merge it with Wayne Enterprises, but the price was low…”

“Record low,” Tim corrected.

“So I went ahead and bought it…and I think you’ll do great.”

Steph looked up, wonder in her eyes. “But…LexCorps is a huge company! How am I supposed to be its CEO?”

“Y’know it pretty well,” Clark said. “Y’know the rhythm, and some of the people…and you’ve got yer family to help.”

“Don’t worry,” Dick said. “It’s easy, once you get going.”

Steph smiled. “If you think I’m ready…I’ll be happy to accept your offer, Mr. Wayne.”

They all laughed and hugged her again.

“Come on,” Kara said, squeezing Jason’s hand. “Ice cream time.”

“Go on,” Bruce said. “We’ll be there in a moment.”

The kids all headed toward the cars. Bruce and Clark walked slowly, hand in hand, both smiling.

“Y’really couldn’t jist let LexCorps go down?”

“It employs too many people. Gotham’s economy would suffer.”

“True, but she’s gonna have a helluva time gettin’ it back in order.”

“She can do it. She might even make it better than before.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“And she has help.” Bruce kissed Clark’s cheek. “Don’t worry about the kids…they’re all going to be okay.”

Clark smiled. A year with Bruce, and the kids, with school and Kara and finally, finally peace, and he knew.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re all gonna be okay.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As We Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780093) by [PrincessaKyla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessaKyla/pseuds/PrincessaKyla)




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